


The Call

by Emxi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Continuation after season 8, Giant monsters, Multi, Nightmares, Space Goddess Allura, Space Pirates, interdimensional creatures, sort of a fix it fic if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 12:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17867153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emxi/pseuds/Emxi
Summary: It has been five years since Voltron returned to the cosmos and the paladins rebuilt their lives. But nostalgia is always hot on their heels as they yearn for the lives they once lived. Then, a friend in need reaches out and they are once again dusting off their armor and leaping back into the stars to save the universe. This monster, however, capable of swallowing whole worlds is nothing to laugh at and the team struggles to overcome something for more evil than even Zarkon himself.





	1. Episode 1 Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post on AO3 and is meant to be a continuation of the original Voltron Legendary Defenders in order to answer a few questions and hopefully provide an alternative to how it ended. With that being said, I was dumb, and deleted the original posting and am now reposting it. This was due to the fact that someone commented, stating that I was supporting a homophobic ending. I would like to say that I am not supporting how the show was ended, hence, a continuation. Do I feel that shoving Curtis in last second was a great way to give the audience what they deserved? No. And killing off Adam wasn't right either. Both Adam and Curtis were done dirty, in my opinion, and deserve better. Shiro was done dirty . . . too many times to count. With that being said, this is a continuation of the series as a whole and for me to start this story where it needs to, I chose to stick with Curtis as Shiro's significant other. Otherwise, I'd have to belatedly explain how Adam survived, how they reconciled, and continued with their lives in a few short lines. Which isn't fair to Adam and personally, I don't see them being together even if Adam did survive. He couldn't handle Shiro's existential crisis and mortality complex and chose to leave, there is nothing wrong with this, but I don't see their relationship recovering from that realistically. I could see them being good friends. With that being said, I still love reading fics with Adam and Shiro making up and power to the people who can write it. 
> 
> Anyways, what I'm trying to say is that I am taking the characters that have been provided to us and attempting to build something amazing with them. If you feel like this may offend you or that I am supporting a homophobic ending because of this, please do not read. Literally, no one is forcing you to read this or accept it as canon. 
> 
> I apologize for the rant, and I hope you give this a shot. Enjoy.

The stars spread out above him for a far as the eye could see. It was a sight that he had always been accustomed to and had even begun to yearn for as his life continued. It had driven him out into the universe, leaving his small backwater planet, long ago to fight in an intergalactic war that had not yet been his own. Those stars had followed him all along the way and he had continued to reach out to them even as he bled and burned and yearned for home.

They called to him.

They always had.

He had spent so much time looking at them that he fully believed the backside of his eyelids were tattooed with their gentle and flickering glow. Just as his mother’s had been. She showed him the stars one night on the sandy beach of their home town, the waves washing up to lick at their toes, while their eyes glittered with the galaxy above them. The dark ominous depths of the sea did not scare the boy who stood before the telescope, toes buried deep, as he stretched for all that he was worth to catch a glimpse of Mars.

So it was no surprise when he found himself drifting through the universe, weightless and skin bare, mere minutes after his head had hit the pillow that night. The Atlas was quite with just enough white noise and static to lull him into a deep sleep. It was a blessing. He had not had any nightmares in weeks.

Blue and purple nebulas swirled overhead, brushing against his skin, and he jerked in surprise at the sensation. It was cold and alarmingly unsettling. He realized a moment later that these were not nebulas made up of debris and gas, but were a familiar energy - quintessence.

From the corner of his eye a wisp of pink drifted close and he paused to examine it. On Earth, Pink was a joyful color. The color of flowers, the setting sun, birds, and candy. It was eye catching and gentle at the same time. But he associated the color pink with something else entirely those days and the sight of the quintessence sent a pang of anguish through his heart.

This was the color of a solemn soul. One who mourned honorably and trudged on through life and war to protect others.

He reached out for it and watched as the tendrils of the energy curled through his fingers and sent warmth spreading through him.

But it felt wrong.

The usual gentle but prideful affection of his long lost friend was weak and worried. Struggling. It sparked his own confusion and worry and the quintessence wrapped about his hand, a comforting gesture, supplying the gentle mental nudge of reassurance.

“Allura . . .” he mumbled and his words echoed in the surrounding space. It mocked him while he waited for a response.

It never came. 

He waited.

The quintessence seemed to fade, pull back, before it surged forth around him and he was assaulted with images of darkness and teeth. It sent a primal spark of terror through his body and he lunged forward, only to find himself sitting up in bed, chest heaving and heart pounding.

The room was quiet around him with only the gentle hum of the atmospheric units and the deep rumble of the Atlas’ engines far below. His eyes roved over the room, unseeing, while the imagery played over in his mind. He had seen many a fang in his lifetime but the enormous maw of needles, filled with darkness and the stench of ancient decay and moisture, had never before faced him. It brought with it the fear of a thousand deaths, forced him to recall the hundreds of times he had taken a risk, and left him imagining how each scenario could have ended far differently had he slipped up even the slightest. It _was_ death. The understanding was so bone deep and assured, instinct, that he could not even think to argue against it.

A shiver wracked his body and he swallowed against the churning of his stomach.

What did that have to do with Allura?

He lifted his left hand to his face as his heart settled into a lower gear and fluttered nervously, rather than the pure panic he had woken with, and let out a shaky sigh.

“What’s wrong, Takashi?”

Shiro dropped his hand to his lap and glanced back over his shoulder at the man lying next to him. He noted absently that Curtis had stolen the blankets from him again. The man was practically a skeleton with how little body heat he produced at times and the cold nights in space were always a little rough on him.

He offered him a quirk of his lips before he sighed again, steady but tired, and turned his eyes to the window through which the stars shone. “It was just a dream,” he mumbled.

“A memory?” Curtis questioned quietly, still struggling to pull himself to the surface of consciousness, and rubbed at his eyes.

Shiro was silent for a moment, mind drifting, before he shook his head. “No, not a memory, just a strange dream,” he reassured him as he lifted his communicator on his wrist and prodded it mulishly. He needed to be back on the bridge in less than two hours so there was no point in trying to go back to sleep. They were on track to meet up with a group of Olkari. It was pure chance that they had stumbled upon their transmission the previous day and had been able to open a line of communication with them, confirming that they were one of the few evacuees from the attack on Olkarian three years ago. They had not yet been able to find a suitable planet to claim as their new home and were hoping to make their way to Earth for assistance.

Curtis sat up with a slight frown as Shiro pushed himself out of bed and padded across the bedroom of the captain’s quarters and slid the closet open. Not for the first time, he found himself staring at Shiro’s back as he grabbed a white tank top out of the closet. It was riddled with scars of all kinds; obvious bite marks, neat slices where a blade had been used, electric burns from what Curtis could only assume was a prod.

It ignited such a fury within him whenever he saw what had been done to the man he loved that he found himself questioning his own control.

Shiro was an amazing soul. Kind and forgiving far more than anyone had any right to be. This was a man who had been tortured and experimented on, used for entertainment, by the very race he was working to build peace with. And when anyone on the Atlas questioned him on the subject their captain would lift a brow and ask, “Did you pay attention in history class when you were in school?”

To which they would bluster and blush and confirm that, yes, they had.

 “Great,” Shiro would say curtly, brow still lifted, and pat their shoulder. “Then you know what defining an entire people by the actions of a few leads to.”

Curtis recalled that the younger lieutenants often would stand in the background snickering into their hands while jovially offering aid to the ‘burn victim’.

Often times, such questions would lead to the relocating of staff members back to Earth. Shiro had no patience for ignorance while they worked to delicately knit the universe back together with peace treaties and kind gestures.

It was one of the reasons Curtis had fallen for him quickly. Sure, he had always admired the man. He was the youngest pilot to ever reach the edges of the solar system. His death had saddened Curtis greatly. But then, one day, when the Earth was in shambles and held together by shear willpower and hidden pockets of resistance, Shiro had risen from the grave. Or, more accurately, descended. The man that had stepped out of the Garrison jeep that day, onto the ash strewn sands of the desert, was not the young man who had left Earth with a smile and a jaunty wave to the camera. He was haunted.

And he was beautiful.

Shiro pulled the tank top over his head and rolled his left shoulder before pulling on a pair of Garrison issued work out pants.

“Do you want a sparring partner?” Curtis asked.

Shiro glanced back at him with a knowing smirk, “I’m afraid I would mop the floor with you.”

Curtis snorted, “I know that, I was going to suggest Matt, he ruined my favorite shirt yesterday when that paint ball gun he built blew up.”

Shiro let out a bark of a laugh, “The Holts can be quite a handful but I wouldn’t have it any other way.” It was true. Shiro knew that, without a doubt, the Atlas would be a much quieter place if the Holts had not agreed to rejoin them once more in space. Katie was back on Earth, but she was only a wormhole away, and had recently even built herself a new space shuttle for personal use. It was just large enough to seat one and that was how she liked it, to quote her.

Colleen, Sam, and Matt had come along to see a bit more of the stars and all that they held.

Shiro suspected Matt just wanted to wreak havoc across the galaxies and torment the crew.

“I’ll meet you on the bridge?” Curtis questioned as Shiro moved towards the door.

“Without a doubt,” Shiro called back over his shoulder with a tender smile. He had just enough time to catch Curtis’ smile in return before the door slid shut and he was left standing in the empty hallway. Nothing to it but to do it, he thought tiredly, and turned to make his way to the training decks with a yawn. Hopefully, he would find an available gladiator bot to spar with to work out any lingering nerves left over from the strange dream.

It wasn’t a nightmare though, and for that Shiro was equal parts grateful and concerned. He did not dream unless it was a nightmare. And, as of late, Curtis had been present to easily soothe him back into a restful sleep once more.

The man was a godsend, in Shiro’s opinion, because he did not back down from the mountains of baggage that Shiro dragged along behind him.

Marrying him had been the smartest move he had ever made. Though the wedding had been a far larger affair than Shiro would have ever expected. If he was being honest, he would have been fine with simply going to a courthouse and signing a few papers before running off to enjoy their honeymoon. But all the Paladin’s and their families had wanted to be there, which included aliens of different races, scheduling for availability so that they _could_ be there, and making sure there was a large enough vendor for the number of guests that would all entail. And before Shiro had known it, a full blown wedding was in the works.

Hunk wanted to cater.

Pidge, Coran, and Lance wanted to decorate and add special effects.

Matt wanted the excuse to use the barrels of alcohol he had been slowly hoarding from around the universe.

Keith wanted a picture of Shiro in a bow tie so that he could later make fun of him for being a dork and choosing to wear a bow tie.

Veronica wanted to see her favorite ship come true and had started to tear up when Shiro had tried to tell her it would be a small affair. His efforts to politely deny her failed miserably as soon as he had seen the first tear well up.

Iverson wanted an excuse to drink Matt’s alcohol stash.

In short, it was a mess, and Shiro could not say no to all those that he truly cared about. Especially when Curtis had informed him that his mother would absolutely have to be there for the mother and son dance. Shiro didn’t have the heart to say no, even if it meant he had to sit out on the tradition, as his own parents had long since passed.

“You look good.”

Shiro glanced over his shoulder through the mirror while he fiddled with the bow tie around his neck and heaved a nervous sigh. Keith stood with his arms crossed, dressed in a tuxedo to match, and smirked at the obvious worry radiating from his long time mentor and brother. His hair had grown longer but he had agreed to pull it back into a ponytail per Shrio’s request. Keith had sighed and Shiro had laughed.

“Thanks, Keith, I’m just . . .” he mumbled and turned to step away from the mirror and look back at Keith directly, “ . . .nervous?”

Keith quirked a brow, “What do you thinks gonna happen? He’s marrying his idol. Not like he’s gonna get cold feet.”

Shiro chuckled and turned to look out at the sky outside. They had gotten ready in an old hotel, restored since the attack, that sat along the beach of west California. The window was only two feet wide but it reached up to the ceiling in a graceful arch, allowing the rays of the soon to be setting sun into the room, and illuminating the dust motes that danced about in the stale air. The hotel was a fossil from the early nineteen hundreds and had withstood much over the years.

“I almost feel like this is a dream,” Shiro mumbled absently as he watched the beach below, rows of chairs had been set up under a large tent, and people were already gathered and waiting to take their seats. The size of the tent still amazed him and he bet it had cost thousands of dollars to rent alone (not including the wooden flooring that had been set up beneath so that the chairs could be whisked away and replaced with tables for the party afterwards) and wondered just how far he could push the Garrison. He could retire that day and have more than enough to live off of if he asked. “Almost . . ..” he continued a moment later, “ . . . almost as if I’m not supposed to have this. I’ve been through so much, the universe has done its best to get rid of me, and the fact that I am about to marry a man who makes me happy is too good to be true . . . “

Keith had dropped his chin to his chest, eyes vacant as he stared at the ornate carpet beneath his dress shoes, and sighed through his nose.

He pretended not to see the hand that was lifted to Shiro’s face to wipe at his eyes.

The man was afraid that it would all be ripped away from him and who could blame him after all that he had been through? Keith certainly couldn’t.

“You are a Paladin of Voltron, Captain of the Atlas,” Keith began resolutely after allowing the man a moment to compose himself, “No one can take this away from you, and if they try, we’ll all be there to fight. Our lives were never meant to be easy, and they probably never will, but we have each other and that’s what matters.”

Shiro smiled then, bright as the sun that shone behind him, and wrapped Keith up in a tight hug. “Where’d you get that speech from, huh?” he asked into his shoulder with a chuckle.

Keith scowled, “From you, you big oaf, now quit crying and get out there.”

The sun was setting as Shiro and Curtis stood under the tent, the flaps tied open to allow the orange glow in to dance across them and the floor, and Iverson read from a battered notebook in which he had written down notes. He stumbled now and again, but he was so good natured and jovial about it, everyone laughed along.

Curtis’s family and friends occupied one side of the tent. They were a colorful bunch, boisterous and loving, but they were a little subdued in comparison to Shiro’s side. The first seat was vacant of a person and instead held a single photo, saved from the attack, that depicted a younger Shiro sitting at a table with his mother, his grandparents, and a younger Adam. They were all smiling at the camera, with the exception of his grandmother, who was about to swat Shiro’s hand away from behind Adam’s head. Alas, she had not been quick enough that day and Adam would forever have bunny ears.

The photo aside, the rest of the seats were occupied by a handful of humans and an almost alarming amount of aliens. The Holts, along with Team Voltron, had occupied the three front rows. This included Krolia and Kolivan, Kosmo, Shay, Acxa, Zethird,  and Ezor. Coran was seated in the front row along with the paladins. And Shiro was certain he had spotted Slav somewhere behind Zethrid, but the woman was so tall, she provided excellent cover. Not to mention Matt’s girlfriend. Shiro hadn’t prodded him for further information in that area.

It was a beautiful sight to behold. Seeing all those people together, proving that peace could be achieved among all different races, was enough to bring a tear to Shrio’s eye even if it _wasn’t_ his wedding day.

But what he wouldn’t give for his mother to be there.

_“Over here, Takashi . . . you can see mars from here . . .”_

His mother’s voice wrung in his mind, soothing some of the pain, pulling it from him. He could smell the cool ocean breeze and feel the sand between his toes as he stood before a telescope, set up by her for their weekly trip to the beach to watch the stars, and beheld the flickering light that was the red planet. His lungs had filled with that ocean breeze as he let out a childish gasp of awe and his mother had giggled at his delight.

They stood there, where the sea and the sky met, and she whispered secrets of the universe to him while he collected sea shells.

And when she passed he had known that it was the universe that had taken her. The stars had come down and wrapped her in their embrace and lifted her up to finally fly free and explore all the galaxies it had to offer. If only he had given her more seashells to tether her to the sand. To Earth. To him.

 _“Go,”_ she had said on her deathbed, _“be great.”_

She told him to reach for the stars and had sewn the first few feathers into his back with her secrets of the universe, and begged him to fly. . . so he had.

Now he was getting married and Curtis was watching him with forlorn understanding while he yearned for her presence and guiltily wished he too had a parent to dance with that night.

He could only offer a watery smile in return.

And suddenly, he was saying ‘I do’, and the crowd was cheering and they were kissing, and it was amazing all over again. Chairs were rearranged and tables were brought in, drinks were poured and everyone was settled, and Keith was giving a speech as his best man.

“Takashi Shirogane is a man of many titles,” Keith began curtly, a bit awkward, as he stood to Shiro’s right. They were all seated at a long table and to his left sat Curtis along with his cousin and three best friends from the Garrison. Lance, Pidge, and Hunk had all taken up seats on the other side of Keith to even out the numbers, but Shiro would have asked them to be there regardless. “To you, he is Admiral, Captain of the Atlas, the Golden Boy of the Garrison . . .” he continued with a bit more confidence, sliding into a tone he had used to give speeches to the Galra, to planets the Blades visited to provide aid, “But to us, he will always be the Black Paladin of Voltron. His is our mentor, our leader, and brother-.”

Pidge had prodded Keith’s side and whispered something up to him when the young man had blinked and glanced down at her. He chuckled at whatever she had said and cleared his throat to add, “Or, as we like to call him, our Space Dad.”

There was an uproar of laughter from those present and Shiro chuckled while turning to lock eyes with Curtis, who was laughing, and shook his head in amusement.

“But it is important to remember that Takashi Shirogane is also very much human. He taught me how best to sneak out of the Garrison and swipe a hoverbike for a midnight joyride without getting caught. He knows the best food to eat when you’re hungover,” Keith paused to allow the crowd another moment of laughter, “And he can tell you anything you want to know about all the old school rock bands. He also was the one who gave me a second chance. I was just some orphan running around town starting fights with whoever looked at me funny that day. When Shiro came to my school for recruitment, I stole his car.”

Coran let out such a loud laugh at that that the others started in again and Keith could only offer Shiro a shrug and silent apology at how long his speech was taking.

“I stole his car and instead of pressing charges, he gave me a card, and got me into the Garrison. I never thought that we would be fighting an intergalactic war in giant mechanical lions a few years later but I can’t think of anyone who’s side I’d rather fight by. Here’s to Shiro and Curtis and their happiness because they sure as hell deserve it.”

Keith dropped back into his seat and grinned when Shiro wrapped him up in a side hug, his prosthetic surprisingly warm against his back. There were applause and a few wolf whistles from the crowd, of course, the rowdy ones were of Team Voltron and their friends and family, but Curtis’s family were rising to the challenge.

“Is Lance qualified to be the DJ?” Pidge asked a little while later. They had half eaten plates of food in front of them, as they had all gone for thirds and were far too full to finish off what they had mistakenly gone for, but were too respectful of Hunk’s efforts to just toss the food.

Shiro took a sip of champagne and glanced across the tent where Lance had set up a table with a computer and sound system.

“Probably not,” Shiro admitted casually and set his glass down, “But if he fails miserably we get to make fun of him forever.”

Pidge snorted with laughter and covered her mouth, struggling with the drink of champagne she herself had just taken, as it threatened to well back up through her nose.

Shiro chortled and patted her back. He glanced about for a moment, spotting Keith as he spoke with his mother and Kolivan about the typical weddings and what they entailed, and then found Coran entertaining the other Holts with some story that required a layout of silverware and glasses for representation.

Curtis had been whisked away by his tearful father for a moment.

“Alright ladies, gents, and aliens of all shapes and sizes, I’ll need you all to clear off the dance floor so that tall, dark and handsome Curtis over here can dance with his mother,” Lance’s voice sounded out from several speakers positioned throughout the tent.

Shiro watched on as the floor was cleared and the sun finally sunk beneath the horizon. Lights had been strung up beneath the tent, large clear bulbs throwing out plenty of light and warmth for all to see, and the first few stars caught his eye. But his gaze was quickly pulled away to focus on the love of his life as he pulled his mother, a tall and prideful woman with a twinkle in her eye, onto the dance floor. A ukulele strummed to life over the speakers as ‘Over the Rainbow’ played and the crowd quieted to watch them spin across the floor.

It was a meaningful song for them. They had shared it together when Curits' grandfather had passed away. He had shared this little bit of information with Shiro a year after they had started dating, late at night, when Shiro had had a nightmare and asked him to distract him with a story. They had shared many secrets that way.

When the song had ended, Curtis glided through the crowd to offer Shiro his hand, and pulled him from his seat. Shiro smiled, eyes a bit misty due to the emotions running rampant that day and the dance, but walked with him dutifully.

“I’m afraid I may have gone behind your back a little,” Curtis admitted lowly as they approached the dance floor.

Shiro smiled wryly and lifted a brow, “How so?”

“Weelllllll . . .,” he drawled hesitantly.

“Alright, Shiro, get up here because you’ve got a couple moms looking to dance with you too,” Lance drawled into the microphone and then laughed at the utterly mortified expression that came over Shiro’s face. There was cheering and wolf whistles as Curtis pushed him into the center of the dance floor.

He scanned the crowd, feeling very much exposed and out in the open, and was relieved when it was Colleen Holt who stepped out onto the floor with a teasing smile on her face. Of course she would, Shiro had thought warmly, she was practically the mother of the whole Atlas crew. Her presence was calming as he met her half way with his own smile.

“Slow or fast song?” he asked while fighting back the heat rising to his face.

“Slow,” Colleen informed him with a chuckle and offered her hand to him. He took it in his, the prosthetic, and settled his other at her waist when she placed hers on his shoulder. The song started and he was surprised to hear a mournful violin, soon accompanied by a cello, and his eyes started to burn again.

He vaguely recognized the song and it already left his chest aching.

“It was my idea, I’ll admit,” she said quietly as they slid into a slow spinning waltz. “I wanted the opportunity to tell you how proud we are of you, Shiro. You’ve been through so much and I am just so happy that you have found this.”

Shiro felt warmth blossom in his chest for the small woman with the fiery temper. She had started crying as soon as the song started but these were tears of joy that spilled down her cheeks. He smiled down at her and tightened his grip on her hand ever so gently. This was the woman that had married Sam Holt, the woman he had had dinner with on more than one occasion before the war, and this was Pidge’s mother. A woman who had thought she lost her entire family, only for them all to come puttering back to Earth at one point or another, with Shiro soon to follow.

“Thank you for all that you have done for us,” Colleen continued as they spun about the floor for a second time. She didn’t need to say what it was she was thanking him for, because he already knew, and understood. She was thanking him for saving Matt, for taking a risk to save her husband’s life, for taking care of Katie and bringing her home.

“I’d do anything for you all,” he murmured, not trusting his voice in that moment, and bit his lip against the blossoming tears.

Colleen smiled a watery smile and pulled him to a stop before she stepped back. A new figure stepped up and Shiro only then recalled that Lance had said ‘Mothers’ and not ‘Mother’. He chuckled as Krolia took her place, mirroring Colleen’s position, and took his hand in hers. She was a few inches taller than Shiro, so it was quite different to look up as he pulled her into the dance.

“Did you practice?” Shiro asked with a wry grin.

Korlia smirked, “I may have. Keith explained to me how important these ceremonies are and when I heard from Colleen about this dance, I offered my services.”

Shiro shook his head in bemusement and caught Keith’s eye as they passed, surprised to see the man smiling kindly.

“I also . . . wish to thank you,” she added quietly. Her eyes never left his, intense as they were, as she spoke. “It was thanks to you that I was able to find Keith. That he lived. That Zarkon and Haggar did not destroy Earth or the universe. Because of you he has grown into a strong young leader and I hear your words when he speaks. It is obvious that you have done for him what I couldn’t.”

“Keith has saved my life more times than I can count,” Shiro mumbled as the lights spun overhead. “What you did was the best course of action anyone could take but I am happy that you were able to find each other. But had things gone differently, I would most likely be dead.”

Krolia snorted. It was her version of a chuckle, Shiro had realized long ago, and so he laughed.

It was no surprise when both Hunk and Lance’s mothers chose to dance with him as well. By the time the long intro to the song they had chosen for him had ended it was someone completely unexpected who stepped up next.

“If you’ll have me,” he stated quietly, hand outstretched and palm up, “I felt that she would have wanted to dance as well if she were here.”

Shiro’s eyes flitted to where Lance stood at the table, eyes soft and gentle, Altean marks glowing in the low light.

“Of course I’ll have you Coran,” Shiro mumbled and took his hand in a firm grip. “But I told Allura she never had to thank me for anything,” he added as Coran took the lead this time.

“I know,” Coran assured him with a kind smile, “But she’d want to anyways.”

They shared a look of melancholy understanding.

_“You taught me the courage of the stars before you left. . .”_

The song had finally made its way to the lyrics and Shiro had picked up on the words in the silence easily enough. His heart clenched and the first tear finally fell. Coran didn’t seem to mind. He smiled reassuringly and pulled Shiro in tight for a quick hug.

_“How light carries on endlessly even after death . . .”_

“Why did he pick this song?” Shiro muttered as his throat tightened against the rising swell of emotions.

“I think he wanted to remind you that this is for your mother, more than anything,” Coran murmured back gently.

_“With shortness of breath you explained the infinite. How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.”_

Shiro’s grip on Coran’s shoulder tightened and he lifted his eyes to the top of the tent, attempting to blink the tears back, but the lights just looked like stars and he couldn’t look at them any longer. “Fuck,” he spat out quietly.

_“I couldn’t help but ask for you to say it all again. I tried to write it down but I could never find a pen.”_

“Everyone is crying right now, Shiro, it’s okay if you want to join them,” Coran assured him with a wet chuckle. Even his cheeks were wet and Shiro couldn’t handle the depths of sadness within his eyes in that moment. Coran had lost everything, literally everything, that he had had from his past. When they had sacrificed the Castle of Lions, he had at least had Allura and the lions. And now it was all gone and he was rebuilding Altea the best he could.

How could this man offer him support when he had lost all that he had ever known?

And for some reason, that was the thought that humbled him and broke him simultaneously.

_“I’d give everything to hear you say it one more time, that the universe was made just to be seen by my eyes.”_

They had come to a stop and Shiro had buried his face in Coran’s shoulder while tears spilled forth from his eyes. He realized then that, since the war had come to an end, he hadn’t really had the time to think on his mother. He hadn’t had time to mourn what _he_ had lost throughout his life. When Allura had gone he had put all that he was into guiding the others home and assuring them all would be well. He could not recall actually, properly, mourning the loss of their dear friend. He hadn’t had time to mourn for Adam.

Curtis had reached out to him and pulled him into another dance, forcing him to keep moving, and promised him that they could cuddle together that night and cry it all out if they needed to. Shiro had nodded wordlessly.

“You taught me the courage of stars before you left . . .” he sang quietly, sprawled across the training deck floor, eyes distant and lost among the lights of the room.

There was no one else there, luckily, as it was still far too early for even the early birds. He had spent a good hour sparring against their own version of the gladiators from the Castle of Lions. He noted, not for the first time, that one of the Holt children had provided the gladiator with a name tag. Today’s victim had been Billy May.

Shiro snorted as he pushed himself to his feet and stretched out a bit before heading back to the captain’s quarters to shower and change into uniform. The halls were empty but as he drew closer to the halls containing the staff quarters, a few people were up and shuffling about, and Shiro offered polite smiles and nods as he passed. They were too sleepy eyed and exhausted to give him much of a response but he did get a resolute solute from one James Griffin.

A part of him missed the early morning smells of breakfast cooked by the yellow paladin. Hunk always had a way of brightening the morning, his peaceful cheer unaffected by the bitter exhaustion the other paladins exuded, and was determined to provide them the best breakfast to perk them up. Shiro had always been an early riser, partly due to the nightmares, but also because he was an adult. The other paladins had been little more than teenagers still growing and requiring copious amounts of sleep.

He stepped onto the bridge no less than twenty minutes later and surveyed the situation with a calm and relaxed air. They would reach the Olkari in two vargas, maybe less, and it would be a simple matter of picking them up and getting them settled into more comfortable quarters while they adjusted their course to head back to Earth. He was certain that Pidge would be more than thrilled, not only to have more assistance with her projects, but to know that some of the people she had admired so much had survived. It would take them a week to get back to Earth, primarily due to the fact that the Atlas had obligations to see to yet, and two more stops would have to be made.

Maybe he would pay Lance a visit and see how he was doing when they arrived.

“Good morning, everyone,” he called after he had taken a moment to confirm all was well with the crew, “Anything of interest to report?”

“Commander Iverson finally hit his twenty pound goal, Sir” Veronica called back over her shoulder while she monitored incoming and outgoing communications. There were many methods of communicating on the ship to other locations but any transmissions had to be approved and scheduled which, more often than not, left Veronica with a lot of requests to pour through. She often swayed Curtis into helping her sort them in the early mornings when there was little else to do.

Iverson spluttered and then scowled, “Thank you for sharing that information with all of the bridge, McClain.”

Shiro smirked but let out a mocking sigh. Honestly, Veronica’s antics kept them all entertained and he was certain he would have gone insane if the bridge was as orderly and professional as it was meant to be. He had spent two years in space with four teenagers and two curious and energetic aliens, any silence or peaceful calm after adjusting to that did not sit well with him. It seemed that sarcasm and sass ran deep within the McClain bloodline.

“Congratulations, Iverson,” he called back and lifted his hand to pull up a screen of the Atlas’s recent updates provided to him by Sam Holt from below.

“Thank you, sir,” Iverson grunted with arms crossed.

Veronica and Curtis chortled but hid their faces from view so as not to cause further strife.

“Have we had an update from the Olkari?” Shiro turned to Veronica, voice light given the current atmosphere.

“No, sir,” Veronica called back over her shoulder. They had agreed on the time to meet up, as well as the specific coordinates, so it wasn’t that odd to have not heard back from them just yet. She had sent out a message ten minutes prior to Shiro entering the bridge.

Shiro paused, brows furrowed in slight concern, but nodded once upon spotting her looking back over her shoulder at him while she awaited his response. “Open up a line for me, Veronica,” he instructed her lowly and stepped back and lifted his gaze to the main display that jumped to life against the window.

“Ready, sir,” Veronica stated curtly and lifted her eyes to the screen as well.

“This is Takashi Shirogane, Captain of the Atlas, please respond,” he called out, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders straight as he waited. The room was quiet but filled with the gentle static of a silent line. He clenched his fingers tightly and cocked his head unconsciously searching for even the smallest of distinguishable sounds.

The screen came to life a moment later and a familiar but nervous Olkari’s face filled the display. He glanced back over his shoulder before turning back to face the screen with a strained expression and panicked breaths. “Shiro!” he called quietly, “It’s so good to hear from you!”

“Gayle!” Shiro exclaimed in surprise, “What’s your status?”

Gayle, the Olkari slave that had assisted them with taking Lubos back from the Galra all those years ago, shook his head grimly. “Pirates, I’m afraid,” Gayle muttered spitefully and paused at the distant sound of an explosion. “They caught us just as we were traveling through the Sylian asteroid belt not a varga ago. We do not have the weaponry to hold them off on this ship and were forced to surrender. Now they are towing us along to some backwater swap moon no doubt.”

Shiro grimaced and mentally cursed before he met Gayle’s eyes, “Is anyone injured?”

“No,” Gayle assured him with a jerk of his head, “They are not aiming to kill. I suspect they want to sell us off.”

Shiro’s jaw tightened and his teeth creaked warningly under the pressure. The word slavery alone was enough to set him off.

“They are primarily half Galra, revolting after the initial fall of the empire,” Gayle added before he ducked down with his wrist communicator.

“Of course,” Shiro muttered. Much like Zethrid and Ezor, many of the half Galra that were ridiculed but forced to hold up the empire were enraged with a deep anger not easily quelled. The second freedom was an option, they went rogue, and took over whatever cruiser or ship they had access to. “Curtis, please get me information on the nearby swap moons closest to their current location,” Shiro ordered before turning his attention back to Gayle, “We’re coming for you. I’ll check back in with you shortly to update you on our current ETA.”

Gayle nodded and ended the transmission with a brief wave.

 “Let’s pick up the pace, Atlas, and get those people out of there as soon as possible,” Shiro barked out and there was a flurry of movement in response. Iverson pulled up his own display and initialized the next gear of the engines, and immediately the low rumble turned into a distant roar as the Atlas worked to comply.

“Sam,” Shiro called as he opened up a line to the engine rooms, “We’re going to need to make sure our weapons and shield are online and fully functioning.”

“Yes, Captain,” Sam’s voice responded, mirroring his curt tone.

“Atlas,” Shiro began again once he had opened a line to the whole ship, “We are approaching a possible hostage situation. Get to your posts and prepare for battle.”

“There is only one nearby Swap Moon, Captain, and we should arrive within the next Varga,” Curtis called back over his shoulder. “It is primarily run by pirates and is known to deal in slavery and scavenging of Galra warships.”

“Perfect, we can kill two birds with one stone then,” Shiro drawled dryly and stepped back with arms crossed. He distantly noted that he would have to share this information with Coran when he next saw the man. If his stories had been anything to go by, Coran had been a bit of a pirate himself back in the day, and had been ecstatic when they had visited the Space Mall all those years ago thinking it would be similar to the original Swap Moon it had been. Would it be inappropriate to take pictures for him?

“Based off of their location we will arrive before them,” Curtis advised stoically.

“Let’s not look a gift horse in the mouth then,” Shiro muttered.

“What?”

Shiro turned to look at Ciril, an Unalu woman who was a master with any weapons system, and sighed. Of course, she wouldn’t understand the figure of speech.

“He means to say that we shouldn’t question this bit of good luck,” Matt explained with a laugh as he stepped onto the bridge and cracked his knuckles. He claimed a seat at the display next to Curtis. He often did so when he was on board to provide additional communication and support for his father and Slav down in the engine room. The reasoning and logic behind having him do so was sound but they all knew it was done to prevent Shiro from having to deal with Slav. The added frustration the alien often caused in him did not help any given situation on a good day.

The whole ship was a mess of activity as staff ran about to prepare the ship for a possible battle as well as the rooms and med bays for any injured that would need tending to. The MFE pilots were checking over their ships with the assistance of the assigned techs to make sure all was well and no mishaps would occur during use. Any non-essential staff for battle were shutting down their respective offices and floors and retreating to their quarters to clear the ship and avoid accidents.

“What’s our ETA?” Shiro asked some time later while scanning through the available weapons systems.

“Twenty Varga out, Captain,” Curtis responded.

“Send a ping to inform Gayle,” Shiro instructed Veronica.

“Yes, Captain,” Veronica complied.

“Open up a hailing frequency to the ship nearest the Olkari vessel,” Shiro added a moment later.

“Awaiting response now, Captain,” Veronica shot back.

“This is Communications Officer Vib of the Harbinger, who’s calling?”

“Seriously?” Matt chortled from his corner of the bridge while Shiro shot him a scowl. Yes, the name was a bit cliché, but lives were at stake.

“This is Captain Takashi Shirogane of the Atlas,” Shiro stated coldly.

“Oh . . .” the voice buzzed over the line and the bridge fell silent, bemused at the response. “One second . . .” Vib stated meekly as the sound of gentle beeping and distant arguing could be heard. A moment later, a video feed popped up on the main display and a lizard like alien appeared on screen. He looked a bit nervous but upon spotting Shiro he let out a squeak and glanced back over his shoulder.

“He says he’s the captain of the Atlas, but he looks like that one guy!”

Shiro’s face fell and he watched dryly as another alien glanced over Vib’s shoulder with a scowl, “What one guy?” he growled.

“You know, the one from the fights, we went to them that one time . . .” Vib muttered at a volume that he must have thought low enough to avoid being caught by the mic.

“Is this really happening?” Shiro said in a low and anguished tone.

Matt was struggling not to lose his battle against the laughter bubbling up from deep within his stomach. His face was red and Curtis was watching him with a hint of concern.

“That’s not him, look at him, his hairs all white,” the other alien gestured dismissively. He was obviously more Galra, with large furry ears and purple scales, but he was far too small. Shiro imagined he had been bullied for his size plenty.

“Yeah, but his hair started to turn white when that witch started playing with him, remember?”

“Oh, yeah . . .we should call the captain . . .”

“What in the name of Sam’s beard is going on?” Iverson grouched from where he had leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, and ever present scowl on full blast.

Shiro heaved a sigh.

“Didn’t you know, Shiro is Space Famous for more than just being the Black Paladin,” Matt whispered in a singsong tone.

“Matt!” Shiro barked in warning, hands braced on the console before him as his head hung from his shoulders. He knew the younger man meant no harm in bringing up the past. Joking was his way of processing what they had all been through.  . . but there were better times and places to do so.

“Champion!”

Shiro grunted and lifted his face to the screen once more, not surprised to see a third person now present. It was almost comical how they all had to squish together to see if it weren’t for the situation. This new alien was full Galra but also would have been considered a runt. The whole crew was just a collection of aliens who had been bullied and enslaved, he was beginning to realize, and doubted they would pose much of an actual threat. They had only been able to take the Olkari due to their ship and scavenged weapons.

“It has been brought to our attention that you are participating in slave trade and have currently in your possession a group of people that we would very much like back, Captain . . .?” he trailed off, realizing he had never gotten the captains name.

The Galra scowled, “Captain Yurt.”

Matt laughed again.

“Captain Yurt,” Shiro drawled dryly.

“How’d you get to be a Captain?” Captain Yurt muttered with a look of disgust. “I didn’t think the Voltron Coalition would approve of someone like yourself leading.”

Shiro gritted his teeth. Captain Yurt was infuriating.

“My career path is of no concern of yours, Captain Yurt, but you may want to consider my previous statement and release the Olkari,” Shiro ground out and lifted his chin, daring the pirate to refuse.

The bridge was filled with tension as they all watched the display. Iverson had quirked a brow while Veronica adjusted her glasses and looked down her nose at the pirates.

“And miss an opportunity to see The Champion in action? That footage would sell for millions of GAC,” Yurt laughed grimly and clapped his hands together in delight, “I think not. If you want your Olkari then you’ll have to come get them.”

Shiro bit back a scathing remark and instead nodded once, “Very well then, prepare for battle.”

The transmission winked out of existence and Shiro rocked back on his heels while the bridge fell silent once more. They were all watching him expectantly. Varying degrees of concern, confusion, and curiosity could be seen among their faces and it caused a brief swell of anger to rise up in his chest. He felt like he was on display for their entertainment, a feeling that was laced with deep righteous fury and humiliation all at once, engrained deep within his bones. But no, he reminded himself, they were not the Galra who had watched and screamed for his blood. They were his team.

He felt a flicker of concern in the back of his mind, belonging to the Atlas itself, but soothed it back with a roll of his shoulders.

“Idiot is offering him his entire crew and shis for a couple million GAC,” Matt snorted and turned back to his display.

Shiro grunted before he pulled up the intercoms and stated, “MFE’s, prepare for takeoff.”

“Your orders, Captain?” Iverson prompted stoically.

“Bring the Atlas in and provide minimal support unless otherwise requested,” Shiro commanded grimly, “I’m deferring command to you, Iverson.”

“What?” Curtis exclaimed. He stood from his seat and leveled Shiro with such an alarmed expression that pain blossomed in his chest. It was soon swept away by the need to assist those in danger. And if there was a bit of that righteous anger needing to be dealt with too, well, he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Shiro,” Matt mumbled in awe, eyes wide as he looked back over his shoulder.

“I’ll give Yurt what he wants,” Shiro muttered, “He may even return the Olkari to us without fuss then.”

“The Atlas has more than enough power to combat a couple of pirates, Sir,” Iverson shot back.

“This is a hostage situation, going in guns blazing and blowing up their ship may cause unnecessary damage and injury,” Shiro argued as he stepped down from his console and headed for the elevator.

Those remaining on the bridge shared worried looks. Matt’s foot bounced on the floor while he relayed the recent events to his father.

“Alright then, McClain, get those shields up. We’ll give them a chance to subdue the pirates and if they fail, we’ll step in,” Iverson ordered as they all returned their attention to their displays.

Curtis clenched his teeth but did his best to remain calm while his husband ran off to physically fight off a group of pirates capable of who knew what. He caught Matt shooting him a sympathetic glance and heaved a sigh. It wasn’t the first time Shiro had gone off to deal with an issue himself. He hated putting others in the line of danger and was far too honorable for his own good but it seemed that this was more a matter of pride. Captain Yurt had goaded Shiro into action. If Shiro was emotionally involved in the situation than it would not bode well for him.

“Matt,” Curtis murmured under the general noise of the active bridge. When the younger man had turned to look at him curiously, he asked, “Could you hack their security footage so we can see what’s going on? I don’t want to undermine Shiro by asking the MFE’s to watch his back but . . .just so we can see if he needs help.”

“I can do that,” Matt agreed, “It will allow us to offer guidance to the MFE’s as well.”

Curtis smiled tightly and was relieved when Matt bent forward, typing away at the display before him, while the alarms signifying the MFE launch blared.

Several video feeds popped up on the main display. Matt scrolled about through them from his own console, estimating just how many pirates they were up against, while searching for other prisoners. Meanwhile, the MFE’s could be seen streaking out through the stars in the direction of the incoming ships.

“Glad to have you aboard, Captain,” Griffin shot back over his shoulder as the craft ate up the distance between the Atlas and the pirates. The yoke between his hands was sturdy and calming but the presence of Takashi Shirogane was enough to silence any nerves. And really, they had faced much worse than space pirates in the past.

“It’s good to be aboard,” Shiro admitted with a pat to Griffin’s shoulder. He was sitting in the spare seat behind the pilots chair and it was incredibly cramped. The feel of the ship around him, thrumming and humming with power, however, eased the discomfort a bit. “This is going to be a tense situation, so remember to stay calm. Matt?” he switched between speaking to Griffin and to the comm in his helmet smoothly.

“Yes, Captain of mine?” Matt drawled.

“Any prisoners on the pirate ship itself?” Shiro questioned, ignoring the teasing tone in which Matt spoke.

“Negative,” Matt chirped, “They are pulling the Olkari ship along in a tractor beam and they are all being held within.”

“Good,” Shiro said and leaned forward to scrutinize the ships up ahead. “I want Rizavi and Griffin to focus on destroying the tractor beam and escorting the Olkari back to the Atlas. Leifsdottir and Kinkade will go with me to take the bridge of the pirate ship.”

“Yes, Sir!” they chorused and Shiro steadied himself for the upcoming jump out into open space.

 Griffin flipped a few switches overhead, allowing the glass window to pull back as they slowed below the old Galra cruiser. Shiro pushed himself out of the seat and launched out into open space with a grunt. The MFE shot past below him and he activated his jet pack, propelling himself towards one of the hangars, and grunted again when he made contact with the outer hull. His boots stuck to the metal, built with magnetic devices, and he turned to look back out into the stars as two more figures leapt from their MFE’s and rocketed over to join him. The pilotless crafts floated on aimlessly but would return when their pilots hailed them.

Matt was rather proud of that one. They were just like the lions, he had boasted, and Shiro had only chuckled and patted him on the shoulder. 

“Engage only when necessary,” Shiro advised them over the shared comm.

“Yes, Sir,” they responded as they came to a stop against the outer hull next to him.

Shiro clenched the fingers of his prosthetic into a fist and a glowing blue energy blade sprang to life. He pulled the arm back and pierced the hull in one smooth movement. He cut a small circle, just big enough for them to fit through one at time, with little effort. As soon as the circle had been completed the metal was pulled out into space as air forced its way through and they filed in one a time.

Shiro landed first, blade still active, and rushed the pair of rusted sentries that lifted their blasters in his direction. Kindkade and Leifsdottir were just setting down on the ground when Shiro cut through the first sentry and spun about to slice through the head of the other. Robotic parts clattered to the ground, both inoperable, and he wasted no time in hacking the arm off of one of them.

“What are you doing?” Kindkade asked quietly, curious.

 “The Galra ship are built to only respond to Galra and their creations,” Leifsdottir explained as they followed after Shiro.

Shiro rested the robotic hand over the pad on the nearest door and let out a light chuckle as the door slid open. “Sometimes, I really miss my old arm,” he admitted to no one in particular. They shuffled in and the door sealed shut behind them. Without the threat of being sucked back out into space the remaining mission seemed like a piece of cake.

“Despite it playing a part in your clone going rogue, it was quite convenient,” Matt’s voice filtered in over the comm as they hurried down the hall.

Shiro paused at an intersection and glanced down both halls before signaling the others to the follow as he hurried on. “I never thought to ask for the coding from Pidge, since we were working to make peace with the Galra, but that was obviously a mistake,” Shiro muttered.

The ship was mostly empty, he had realized quickly enough, and was run by a skeleton crew of a few pirates just looking for a quick buck and their next meal.

“I’ll have her send it over to me after this,” Matt assured him. “Heads up,” Matt added a moment later, “You got pirates ahead. Two of them. Seems like their just doing patrols. Thanks to the wonderful hack master, me, no alarms went off when you breached the hull. You’re welcome.”

Shiro snorted and crouched down at the next set of intersecting halls and peered down the length to his right. Sure enough, two half Galra were shambling along at a casual pace. They seemed to be deep in discussion so it was easy enough for him to pull out the blaster from its holster at his waist and fire off two shots. The aliens fell to the ground, stunned, with little mess.

Kinkade whistled.

“Is there anything you _can’t_ do, Captain?” he asked quietly.

“I'm pretty bad at art, actually,” Shiro informed him promptly and took off at a run down the hall. He was plotting a course to the bridge based off of memory and he only knew that it was several levels up. He was hoping to make it there some time in the next quintet.

There was an assortment of laughter over the comms from other people providing support for the operation.

Suddenly, the ship shuddered, and the sound of cheering filtered into Shiro’s ear. That would be the other pilots taking out the tractor beam then, he noted absently, and led the other two to an elevator.

“I got some activity now, uhh, it looks as if they have a pet of some kind,” Matt advised grimly.

“What kind of pet?” he asked. Shiro paused as the elevator doors opened and he held out a hand to keep the doors from closing out of Earth habit. His eyes narrowed and he held up his other hand, instructing the two pilots to hold their position next to him.

“Big, ugly, slobbering,” Matt listed off.

“Matt,” Shiro snapped and dropped to a crouch as the sound of voices filtered down the hall.

“Right, uhh, looks like a mix between a giant lizard and a big cat, tusks, big eyes . . .” Matt seemed to be typing away, most likely attempting to research the creature. “Sending an screenshot your way,” he spoke up a moment later.

“Dammit,” Shiro muttered. He already knew what they were dealing with before the image even popped up on his visor. It was a mutated version of the creatures he had faced on that dead planet he and Keith had crashed into all those years ago. Keith had piloted the Black Lion to fend them off because there were too many and they were far too large to take on alone. Shiro knew, because he had tried just that.

But the thing that stared up at him through the frozen image was larger, being pulled along on thick chains and electric prods, while its handlers walked at its side with heavy shields. It was frothing at the mouth. Spines protruding from its back. Claws long and jagged.

“It’s almost on top of you guys,” Matt murmured quietly.

“Alright,” Shiro said lowly and peeked out into the hall. Across the hall were the doors that led to the large mess hall. If he was correct in assuming all personal were in safe locations, then the room would be empty of any occupants. “You two, get those doors open and scout out the room, I’m going to lead that thing in there, and I want you to close the doors after,” he instructed them.

“Yes, Sir,” Kinkade muttered and lifted the sentry arm from Shiro’s grasp before he lunged forward and used it to open the doors.

Leifsdottir glanced over at Shiro with furrowed brows, already having processed his plan, but nodded and followed. She trusted their Captain to know what he was capable of handling.

The sound of multiple footsteps, punctuated by the heavy claws of the creature prowling along, was accompanied by wet slathering pants and growls. With the pilots already stationed within the mess hall, doors held open by their crouched figures, and Shiro still hidden within the elevator, they were unable to see the procession as it approached.

Shiro steadied his nerves. They had to deal with the creature first. If it wasn’t dealt with then it would just be another variable in play when they stormed the bridge, and it wasn’t worth the risk of being caught unaware. He trusted the two pilots to be able to handle a couple pirates with little more than shields and prods to fight. They had proven themselves more than capable over the years.

They made eye contact from across the hall and he lifted a hand before he stood and slid out into the open.

“There you are!” one of the pirates yelled.

 In unison, they stepped forward and dropped their shields to the ground, forming a line of defense and effectively blocking anyone or thing from leaving the hall in that direction. Once settled, the chains that held the beast in place were dropped to the ground, and one of them let out a piercing whistle.

The beast roared, mouth opening impossibly wide as saliva trailed from its fangs and splattered the ground beneath it. Now that he could see the creature for himself, the thing was covered in half healed wounds and fresh electrical burns. It was enraged, bitter, and starving. Unfamiliar as its anatomy was, he could still make out its frail form.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t a worthy opponent. It was still three times the size of Shiro.

As soon as the chains hit the ground and the whistle pierced the air, it lunged forward, claws rending deep gouges into the metal floor as it charged.

Shiro crouched, arms raised, and focused on his own breathing as time slowed. There was a moment in which he was terrified to realize how _easy_ it could be to slip back into the Champion’s skin. And then he was diving into the mess hall and Kindkade and Leifsdottir were throwing themselves out after the beast had charged through after him.

Shiro rolled across the ground right into a dead run for the other end of the room to provide himself with some space. There were long tables bolted into the ground at equal intervals throughout and he used those to his advantage as the creature ran after him, sliding across the smooth floor, zigzagging around them to keep up with him.

“Keep me updated on them, Matt,” Shiro ordered as he dove under a table to avoid the creature as it jumped over.

“Yes, Sir,” Matt responded curtly.

Shiro shimmied out from the other side of the table and ran down the aisle for the other side of the room, activating his arm as he did. All the while plans sparked in his mind, ways to use his surroundings to fight this thing off, but he had so little to work with. At least in the gladiator pits he had pillars and sand and other random objects to use. This room was large and open with nothing but tables.

Wait a second, he glanced back over his shoulder and was not prepared for the creatures proximity. He made the mistake of making eye contact with it, red eyes glowing with the fire of rage, and dropped to a crouch as it swiped at the air with one mighty paw. It barreled over him and he threw his arm up as it passed, the energy blade cutting deep into its stomach.

It let out a screech loud enough to throw Shiro off his guard and turned back to face him with little hesitation. It seemed completely oblivious to its wounds as it lunged towards him and Shiro only had time to lift his prosthetic in protection. His back hit the ground and he let out a grunt of pain. With nothing but his arm between them he had no choice but to reach up and grip one of its tusks with his flesh hand, attempting to push its head away, while its jaws worked at the air above his head.

“Kinkade has taken a hit but it is nonfatal, three of the pirates have been dispatched,” Matt reported into the comm as he watched the events from the display screen in front of him.

The Olkari were in the process of docking in one of their hangars that had once been occupied by the lions. Atlas staff were already swarming them with water and food, medical equipment, and blankets for comfort. Colleen was orchestrating everything and Matt was certain his mother would see to it that everyone was taken care of.

“The Olkari are safely in custody,” Matt added and then switched over to the video feed of the Mess Hall on the Galra pirate ship.

“Captain!” Veronica cried out as the image grew to take up the whole of the display.

Shiro was on his back, covered in smears of orange blood, as the creature scrabbled to get at him from above. He had hit his head on something at some point, because a streak of red interrupted the bright orange, and trailed down past his jaw.

“Too old for this shit,” Shiro grit out through clenched teeth over the comms.

“Stop playing with it,” Matt grouched but his fingers tapped away at the dashboard nervously. 

“Matt,” Shiro warned and then his breath hitched as the creature managed to shake his flesh hand from its tusk and the momentum sent its head smashing through the ground just above his shoulder.

Curtis stared with wide eyes as his husband wrestled with a creature nearly three times his size. But he knew Shiro well and that he could handle himself in nearly any fight. Watching him struggle now was unusual. He bit his lip and glanced back at Matt frantically. The guy had a point, it did seem as if Shiro was stalling.

“He feels for it,” Curtis muttered and Matt let out a harsh sigh. They had all seen the state of the creature. But there was something wrong with it. It looked crazed and dying, as if it were infected with a strain of space rabies.

Shiro must have worked his legs up under the creature because it was flung back a few feet while Shiro pushed himself up and backed away, energy blade raised and waiting.

“Waiting on you, Captain,” Matt called into the microphone. Kindkade and Leifsdottir had finished with the pirates in the hall.

“Noted,” Shiro panted and charged the creature. It stepped up to meet him but Shiro jumped, bouncing off the floor, and flipped over above it to strike out at the back of its head with his blade. The smell of burnt flesh radiated through the air as he landed in a crouch.

There was a thud from behind him as the body crumpled to the ground, orange blood spilling across the cool metal floor.

He spared it a brief remorseful eye before he deactivated his blade and ran for the doors.

“Trained in the art of anime fights, is he,” Matt grumbled, causing the others of the bridge to shake their heads.

Curtis leaned back in his seat with a relieved sigh as Shiro joined the two pilots and they headed for the bridge. There were only three pirates there, the rest had been taken out by the MFE’s as they tried to escape via the pods. He ignored the way his fingers shook and continued to monitor the progress with the Olkari so that he could update Shiro fully upon his return.

“That was a good fight, Champion,” Captain Yurt drawled as they stormed the bridge, blasters at the ready.

Shiro did not deem the statement worthy of response and instead aimed his blaster at the captain’s head. He and Vib stood at the helm, Vib looking nervous as usual, while Yurt grinned smugly. “Yield and you may join the coalition in our efforts to bring peace and stability to the universe,” Shiro commanded. Bruised and bleeding as he was, he still managed to work up the strength to speak in such a dominating tone, that it left Kinkade feeling rather silently impressed.  

Yurt snorted, “As if you can stop all the fighting in the universe. There will always be crime and war, Champion, don’t be stupid.”

“Yield,” Shiro growled.

"There will always be darkness," Yurt added darkly.

Captain Yurt’s yellow eyes narrowed and in the bridge light they looked purple. Shiro focused on him, blaster steady in his grip while Kinkade and Leifsdottir focused on Vib. He was thankful because, although Yurt was a small Galra in comparison to someone like Sendak or Zarkon himself, he radiated such malice that it nearly surprised him. The image of Zarkon, called forth by the comparison, stuck in his mind and he paused. He held his breath and scrutinized Yurt with a dawning horror that he dared not voice to the others without confirmation.

Yurt was a bumbling fool, or at least, he played as one but Shiro was beginning to see that there was more to him than that. He was staring The Champion, Captain of the Atlas and former Black Paladin down, with not an ounce of fear or hesitation that he would have expected. Especially when his forces had been minimized and all but wiped out. 

And his eyes were pulling him back to a very dark time in his life. The light in every Galra ship was purple and pulsating but reflected in Yurt’s eyes, it looked downright menacing.

“There’s one missing,” Matt murmured in Shiro’s ear.

Shiro jolted, pulled from his haze with a spark of panic, and glanced back over his shoulder in the same moment that another pirate jumped out of the shadows and launched himself at him. Shiro did not have enough time to react as they tumbled off the catwalk of the bridge down to the floor below. His head smacked against the cold metal floor and the force caused stars to bloom across his vision while his lungs struggled to refill themselves with precious oxygen that had been lost upon impact.

Distantly, he could hear the fire fight that broke out overhead. Kinkade sent out two blasts and there were muffled curses as the pirates were apprehended. Leifsdottir rambled off the current situation over the comms and confirmed that they had successfully taken the bridge but that the Captain, he was uncertain if she was speaking of him or Yurt, had been injured.

Shiro wheezed and turned his head, realizing that the other pirate had not yet taken action against him, and grimaced when he discovered why. Shiro could only assume that he was half Olkari, given the eyes and facial structure, but he had been covered in a soft lilac fur. _Had been_ , because the pirate was staring at him with lifeless eyes from where he laid crumpled on the ground, neck bent at an awkward angel and purple blood pooling beneath his head.

His vision spun as he stared and waited for the pirate to pull himself together and climb back to his feet. But no breath stirred in his chest, his eyes remained unfocused and still, and the blood slowly slid across the floor towards Shiro.

“Captain!”

Shiro painfully turned his head to look back up to the bridge where Leifsdottir stood, peeking over the edge to catch sight of him, and waved her off tiredly.

“Do you need assistance?” she called down.

Shiro grunted out a no and slowly sat up, taking a moment to allow his eyes to focus, before he stood and shot his arm up to grip the railing of the bridge catwalk. It was effortless then to pull his body up and follow. He stumbled over the railing but Ina rushed to steady him as he wobbled.

“Let’s just get back to the Cas-,” he paused and shook his head, “Atlas.”

“Definitely concussed,” she observed distantly.

Shiro grunted and would have said more but the ground beneath his feet tilted dangerously and Ina’s slight frame was not at all enough to hold him upright. He fell forward and tried to catch himself on the railing before he hit the floor, but it was in vain, and he let out a low moan upon impact.

His head gave one last overwhelming throb and darkness grew at the corner of his eyes before he shut them against the piercing light of the bridge and was gone. The distant ringing was barely loud enough to register as he went under but it carried him along back to that part of space that he had stumbled upon in the dreaming world.

Tendrils of writhing energy were once more swirling around him and there was a chill now that seeped into his lungs and sapped his own energy away. He watched as quintessence trailed away from him, purple and dark, but glowing as it rose into the vacuum like steam. No, he though vaguely, that was his. He was aware that quintessence was essential for life and to watch his very own curl away from him while the coldness spread through his limbs was enough to cause a bolt of panic to pierce his heart.

He glanced about the star studded expanse around him urgently, searching for that familiar pink that he had found just that night, and relaxed once he spotted it. It was distant and impossible for him to reach in zero gravity but it was quickly winding its way towards him. For a moment, to his eyes, it looked like a graceful serpent. It swirled through the darkness with a clear goal in mind and did not slow until it had curled around his out reached hand.

“Allura,” he murmured absently and followed the line of quintessence as it spiraled away into the distance. He could not see where it led to but he was determined to figure it out. With a moment of hesitation he gripped the tendril, though it should have been little more than smoke, and pulled.

There was stunned surprise. It radiated down the pink ribbon and into his mind instantaneously. There was a rush of excitement, underlined with weary exhaustion, and it left his chest tight with worry again.

_Help._

Shiro’s eyes widened and he pulled the quintessence to his chest even as his own was sapped from him. It was the closest he could get to giving his long lost friend a hug and it would have to do.

“I’ll figured this out,” he mumbled quietly as his mind raced with the possibilities of what these dreams could mean.

Gratitude washed over him and he recognized it as hers but it was soon followed by an urgent nudge.

_Go._

Shiro felt his mind shift, felt the cold begin to fade as the darkness surrounding him brightened, and the distant sounds of muffled voices and activity swelled to take over.

He opened his eyes to the blaring white of the Atlas med bay.

“How are you feeling, Shiro?”

He turned his eyes onto the man sitting at his side and smiled. Curtis looked a little rumpled, as if he had fallen asleep not too long ago and had just woken, but he seemed to be in good spirits. He returned his smile and reached over to run a hand through his hair and Shiro would be lying if he said the gentle contact was not soothing against the slight headache he felt behind his eyes.

“I’m alright,” he answered, voice a bit raw due to a dry throat, and accepted the cup of water offered to him gratefully.

“You gave us all a bit of a scare there, Captain,” Curtis teased and took the empty cup back to set it on the bedside table.

“Sorry,” Shiro said through a chuckle, “I didn’t plan on that fall.”

Curtis hummed and ran a thumb along Shiro’s cheek, watched as his lids lowered just a fraction, and leaned forward to kiss him lightly. It was tender and filled with gentle affection and relief. It was just what they both needed to steady themselves, though they needed it for differing reasons, it still calmed their hearts.

“Am I interrupting?”

Curtis straightened to look back over his shoulder with a quirked brow and wry expression that caused Shiro to snort in amusement.

Sam shut the door behind him using his foot, hands filled with a steaming cup in each, and joined Curtis at Shiro’s side. Another chair had already been pulled up before he arrived so Shiro could only assume that Sam had just left to grab some coffee for the wait. Curtis accepted the cup with a relieved sigh and buried his face in the rising steam.

“How long was I out?” Shiro questioned curiously.

“About a day,” Sam answered with a shrug. He was struggling to sop up some of the coffee that had spilled over the lid of the cup without any paper towels and shook his hand out irritably, brows furrowed.

Shiro watched bemusedly before her clasped his hands together over his stomach, not quite ready to move, and sighed.

“You haven’t missed much,” Sam assured him with a chuckle, “We are on course towards Earth. I handled the meeting with the Galians a few hours ago and they have agreed to join the coalition.”

“That’s great, Sam,” Shiro exclaimed quietly and allowed himself to relax a bit more into the stiff bed. He twiddled his thumbs, mind wandering, and struggled to pull the memories of his dream back to him while Sam continued to speak. Vaguely, he was aware that Captain Yurt had been apprehended and would be transported to a galactic prison in due time but there was no rush.

“Is everything alright, Shiro?” Curtis asked a moment later upon noticing that Shiro's attention was waning.

Shiro turned his head to meet his husband’s eyes, searching and hesitant, before they slid over to Sam. “Can you bring me a long distance communicator, Sam?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course,” Sam assured him with a hint of confusion.

Shiro watched him hurry back out of the small room before he locked eyes with Curtis once more. “I think somethings wrong,” he mumbled to him, eyes unfocused, but reached out for his hand and wove their fingers together.

“Like what?”’ Curtis asked with a quirked brow.

Shiro frowned, wanting to explain but fearful that if he voiced his thoughts then they would come true, and so he squeezed his husband’s fingers and took the communicator from Sam as he returned. He propped it up on his stomach, supported by one hand, while he used the other to type in a familiar code.

“Hello there, Number one! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

Shiro smiled tiredly at the boisterous Altean. It was bright and sunny wherever he was and he was wearing the royal robes he had taken to dressing in since he had begun working to rebuild the new Altea. Thankfully, he seemed to be alone at the moment.

“Coran,” Shiro greeted and cleared his throat, “I need to meet with you as soon as you are available. Some things have . . .”

He didn't want to do this, he vaguely realized, and hesitated. He felt so much guilt for Allura's loss, especially when Coran had not even had the chance to say goodbye. He did not want to inform the man that his charge, practically a daughter to him, might be in danger. It would devastate him. He swallowed thickly and worked his jaw as he struggled to find the right words. 

Coran lifted a curious brow as Shiro trailed off. Slowly, his face took on a more worried expression and he glanced about his surroundings before lifting the communicator a bit closer to his face. “Go on, Shiro, I’m listening,” he prodded gently.

“I’ve been having dreams, Coran, and I think something is wrong . . .” Shiro continued in a low tone. “I don’t want to discuss it with you through a screen. We’re heading back to Earth now to drop off a group of Olkari survivors and I would like to meet up with you after.”

Coran hummed in though, pulling at his mustache a bit nervously, but nodded. “I’ll meet you on Earth. I was planning on making my way over there at some point or another to meet with Number Five about some new space craft designs,” he rambled.

“Great,” Shiro stated not unkindly but hoping to cut off the trail of endlessly flowing conversation he knew Coran to be capable of. Especially when nervous. "I'll see you then," he mumbled distractedly. 

"Until then, Number One," Coran said with a wistful smile. 

The video call ended and Shiro let out a heavy sigh. Curtis offered him a tight smile as he ran a hand through Shiro's hair once more and Sam turned his attention to his datapad while sipping from his coffee. They would all speak more on the matter later. 


	2. Episode 1 Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The troops are mobilizing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Here is the next chapter. The adventure is just beginning and the team is getting back together for the first time in years to take on a new challenge. They're a little rusty but they'll get there.

“Dammit!”

 Fingers burned as Pidge shut off the soldering tool and set the equipment down with a hiss. She was fully aware of all safety precautions within any lab or workshop, really, it had been pounded into her brain by her father and then her brother for as long as she could remember. But that didn’t mean that she always adhered to them. Often times, she was far too excited to work on a project and forewent the slow process of preparing to hasten completion. Now she was paying the price for her impatience. One of many wounds acquired of the years for similar circumstances. She would learn, one day, but today was not that day.

“What did you do? Lick a live wire again?”

Pidge scowled and glared over her shoulder at Hunk as he stepped into the warehouse with a chuckle. He had hung up his apron for the weekend to spend it with Pidge while she toiled away on Rover 2.0 but they all knew he really wanted to get his hands on the space craft that she and Coran would be working on. It was a good excuse to get together again anyways. Seeing each other again, outside of their yearly dinner, was like stepping into the past. Their own separate reality pocketed away just for those who had felt Voltron deep in their bones, who had been thrown the reins of a dwindling war, and forced to pick up arms with clumsy fingers. The familiarity was comforting.

“She was just testing the fire to make sure it was hot enough,” Lance’s voice spoke up from where he had taken up roost, sitting cross legged on the floor of the warehouse some feet away while he worked on his own project: an obstacle course for the mice that were currently scattered about him attempting to offer their own impute.  

“Ha ha,” Pidge barked irritably, far from a genuine laugh, and turned back to face the collection of wiring and metal strewn across her desk. The chair squeaked alarmingly, crying out in old age and abuse, but they paid it little mind. Lance was betting it would break any day now and was hoping it would spill Pidge onto the floor when it did. “I wanted to hurry up and get the wiring done tonight since everyone seems to be on their way back to Earth,” she explained a moment later while fiddling with a piece of the outer casing. The metal glinted dully underneath the harsh white light of her desk lamp.

“Everyone?” Hunk question as he claimed a seat on one of the stools across the desk and examined the mechanical mess himself. It had been far too long since he had last dug his hands into something other than food and they itched to prod the mess curiously. 

“Yeah, The Atlas requested a wormhole home a few hours ago and its scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning,” Pidge answered absently, brows scrunched, before she set the piece down with a sigh. “Given that both Shiro and Coran would be joining us, I figured Keith would want to drop by so I sent him a message. He’ll be here a little later in the afternoon.”

“What?” Lance exclaimed with a laugh, “That’s awesome. Look at us, getting the band back together!” His arms waived about in the air, causing the mice to chitter excitedly.

“Meeting up only once a year has been kind of a bummer,” Hunk mumbled with a heavy sigh, eyes now cast the floor with a distant haze as memories played out in his mind. “This’ll be great, I can make us dinner and it’ll be just like old times,” he added a second later, eyes once more bright.

Pidge frowned but did not meet Hunk’s eyes. There would always be one member of their band missing and no matter the length of time that had passed since they had last seen her, it still ached something fierce. She could only imagine the deep melancholy that had taken up roost within Lance’s chest. But she had seen it in the ways he grew quiet and lifted his gaze to somewhere distant and far in the past, eyes hazy with longing, before he would shake his head and bring himself back to the present.

Pidge leaned back in the computer chair, hands thrown back behind her head, and heaved a sigh. There was a part of her that missed the first year they had all been in space together. Sure, it had been terrifying at times, but the close knit comradery they all had with each other was sorely missed. She could see anyone of the team nearly whenever she wanted.

Hunk was busy mumbling to himself about a possible menu for the spontaneous dinner and she took the time to look him over. Hunk had definitely grown over the years, in more ways than one. While he had gained a few inches, much of his weight had transferred over to muscle, but his face remained pleasantly round and friendly as always if a bit more chiseled. But he was far steadier. What once would have left him quaking with anxiety now garnered a determined and steely expression to wash across his face. She guessed running your own universal restaurant, and being a Paladin of Voltron, would do that to a person. But it was probably mostly due to the restaurant. Hungry people were scary. 

Meanwhile, Lance had grown less lanky and filled out his frame nicely, but Pidge wouldn’t know what you were talking about if you mentioned it to her. She had grown too, and with that, came the unwanted feelings. She found herself looking at her fellow Paladins in a much different light as the years grew and it was distracting from her work. Even Shiro, who was off the table for a handful of reasons, still managed to draw and unwilling appreciative eye from her.

Pidge snorted and dropped her head onto her arms on her desk with a dull thud.

And she had boobs now. Just another thing to worry about when getting dressed in the morning. Thankfully her mother had gifted her with a modest sized set as opposed to hulking boulders that could possibly hinder her in battle.

Not that she had much fighting in her life those days.

“Pidge is wilting,” Lance observed casually.

Hunk lifted his gaze to the woman before him and chortled, mind pulled out of the menu within his head, and reached over to ruffle her short curly locks. “Maybe we should get her some water and sunlight,” he mused as Lance gathered the mice and pushed himself to his feet.

Pidge hissed.

“It’s almost midnight anyways,” Lance drawled and came to a stop at the other end of the desk with a light sigh. “Soon the magic will ware off and she’ll turn back into a pumpkin,” he added tragically.

“Oh noooo,” Hunk bemoaned and stood from the stool. He moved around the table while Lance laughed and scooped Pidge up in his arms, choosing to ignore her squawking protests, and headed back towards the door he had entered through not moments before. “We have to get her back to her room before anyone sees,” he exclaimed while Lance trailed behind him.

“I’m insulted that you’re saying I was the carriage and not Cinderella,” Pidge muttered.

“No talking,” Lance shot back as the shuffled down the Garrison halls, “You need to save your strength.”

“Bite me.”

Thus, the trio retreated to the Holt’s residence on Garrison grounds. It was a large apartment, boasting three bedrooms, a kitchen and a kitchenette, and large enough living space to host meetings among friends and family comfortably.

“We should watch a movie,” Lance mused while Hunk bustled about In the kitchen and Pidge nursed a mug of hot chocolate (because it was too late for coffee!). The large rooms were quiet and Lance would have been lying if he said he was ready for bed. He hadn’t seen Hunk or Pidge in far too long and he wasn’t ready to part ways, even if it was just a few hours to get some sleep before the busy day.

Pidge grunted in response, mind lost in Rover 2.0 but it only brought a nostalgic smile to Lance’s face.

“I could make some snacks?” Hunk offered over his shoulder.

Pidge’s head popped up with bright eyes.

Hunk grinned in response and moved towards one of the cabinets while he spoke, “You guys have a bunch of mini bagels in here so I was thinking of making some pizza bites.”

Lance hummed dreamily. It had been a while since he had last had Pizza. He had purchased a large farmhouse that was home to nearly all of the McClain family and everyday was filled with home cooked meals. It was great, and delicious, but a man needed pizza. Years in space had not dampened that desire.

“I’ll set up then,” Pidge chirped as she hopped off of the stool at the kitchen island and disappeared down a hall to collect an assortment of blankets.

“It’ll be just like old times,” Hunk chuckled while he prepped the bagels on a baking pan and snooped through the fridge for red sauce. He could always make it from scratch but he was looking for something quick and easy. Both Lance and Pidge were impatient when it came to food, something he doubted had changed since the Voltron days, and not something he’d want to run the risk of testing.

“Yeah,” Lance sighed.

Hunk glanced back over his shoulder and noted that Lance was running a finger along one of the mice’s backs. He looked so beat down that it sent a pang through his heart. Really, he understood. Maybe not so much about the lost love but there were days that Hunk wished for the simpler times when they were fighting Zarkon and living life in the castle. They had a clear goal and were working to make it happen. Much easier than struggling through their new lives searching for purpose. And the love and friendship that had grown from that felt distant and muted with time spent apart.

“Hey man,” Hunk murmured softly as he shut the fridge and set the red sauce on the counter, “You doing alright?”

Lance lifted his eyes from under his lashes and quirked his lips in an attempt of a smile, “I’m doing fine.”

Hunk frowned. Once upon a time, Lance would have blustered about how great he was doing and brag about all that he had achieved. But this Lance . . .this Lance could only say that he was doing fine. And that was okay, really it was, everyone changes over time. Hunk understood people, better than most of the other Paladins, so he knew that there was no need to press sometimes. But this overshadowing melancholy was not Lance, even grown and matured Lance, and so it hurt him deeply to watch his friend wilt under his gaze with no way to truly help him.

The offer to be a listening ear had been provided numerous times over the years, and Lance had taken him up on it plenty, but it did little good when the heart was broken. Hunk understood. So instead, he slid the bag of cheese pilfered from the fridge over to Lance and set the tray down between them of the island. “Cheese duty?” he asked hopefully.

Lance smiled again, this one more genuine and tinged with a little less sadness, and lifted the bag of cheese for inspection.

“It’s been pretty bad lately,” Lance admitted a few minutes later while he sprinkled cheese over the bagels Hunk had piled with sauce. “I’m doing well, I know that, life is good, it’s just that . . .”

Pidge had trailed back into the living room with a arm load of blankets and pillows and was working to set them up accordingly while Hunk paused to life his eyes to Lance.

“I’ve been having these weird dreams lately,” Lance admitted hesitantly, eyes never leaving the bagels.

“What kind of dreams?” Hunk prompted casually, returning his attention to the red sauce in an effort to quell the building nerves.

Pidge had paused in her pillow assorting but her eyes remained on the couch.

“Of Allura,” Lance said so quietly that the two nearly missed the words, “But she’s not there, not physically, it’s just her quintessence, and she’s asking for help but I have no way to help. It’s driving me crazy and I wake up calling for her but there’s no one there . . .”Hunk’s eyes widened as Lance unloaded all that had been bothering him in one rambling breath. His eyes had grown wet with unshed tears and his shoulders nearly touched his ears as his emotions built and the desperate need to help the women he loved, now passed on, gripped his heart and pulled it taut against his rib cage. “I don’t know what to do,” he admitted shakily, the bag of shredded cheese sat forgotten on the counter while he lifted a hand to his eyes.

“I had a dream too!” Hunk blurted out, reaching over to clasp Lance on the shoulder.

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re all gathering tomorrow,” Pidge spoke up, having materialized at Lance’s elbow, and causing the man to jump. “Because same,” she tacked on with a helpless shrug.

“I just thought it was a nightmare,” Hunk admitted sheepishly.

Lance pinned them both with baleful eyes, gaze flicking between the two of them, before he allowed the tears to fall. Yes, the dreams were terrifying and worrying, but if they were all having them then it could only mean one thing.

Allura was reaching out to them.

* * *

 

The Atlas would remain stationed on Earth while supplies were restocked and staff had the opportunity to reunite with their families. It would take a couple days, something Shiro was adamant on, and the crew appreciated it greatly.

That didn’t mean that there was no work to be done, of this he was aware, because he was staring down at a data pad with the list of prisoners and refuges aboard the Atlas even as he descended the ramp of the ship into the Garrison hangar. Both crew and Garrison staff glided past him, both disembarking and boarding the Atlas to see their tasks done, while he looked through the list and silently bemoaned the amount of paperwork to be done while he was on Earth.

“I’ll take that.”

Shiro blinked in surprise as the pad was swiftly pulled from his hands and slid into the bag resting on Curtis’ hip. His husband smiled at him, sweet and understanding, and Shiro was overwhelmed with gratitude and love. “Are you sure?” he asked hesitantly. It was a lot of work and would most likely take a full twenty four hours to comb through.

“Of course,” Curtis shot back and pressed a kiss to Shiro’s cheek, “You go find your children and catch up.”

Shiro chuckled and thanked whatever being currently ruled over the universe that they had seen fit to gift him with the angel that was Curtis.

“Shiro!”

“I guess they found me,” he observed a second later as a colorful collection of young adults waved their hands in the air from the ground below.

“Don’t make Katie wait,” Sam advised as he strolled down the ramp past them, a giggling Colleen at his side.

Shiro offered a shrug before returning the kiss to Curtis and following in Sam’s wake with a muffled laugh.

Curtis heaved a sigh, thinking of all the paperwork he had just volunteered for, “The things I do for love . . .”

“Coran should be here in a few hours and Keith is actually on his way here too,” Pidge advised as they all sat out on the large balcony table of the Holt’s Garrison residence. The sliding glass door had been thrown open to let the surprisingly cool breeze into the home while the group gathered outside for a light lunch. The sky was vibrantly blue and soft clouds slid by over their heads with nary a care in the world.

“It’s about time you all got together,” Colleen stated while she sipped at the cup of tea Hunk had set down in front of her. She felt a little bad that Hunk was serving them in her own home but he had assured her multiple times that he didn’t mind and preferred to provide. It steadied him.  

“It has been awhile,” Shiro agreed with a smirk. His days had been filled with meetings, traveling, and being pulled every which way to deal with every situation under the sun. Simply sitting under the blue sky and single sun of his home planet had been the last thing on his list of things to do but it was never far in his mind. His taut shoulders had loosened and his limbs felt heavy with relief the moment they had reentered Earth atmosphere. 

“I'll say, how’s space?” Lance drawled as he leaned back in his chair, arms and legs crossed. He seemed a bit tense but Shiro had yet to get his mind off Earth and did not have the urge to question him just yet. It was building in the back of his mind but the warm sun left him sluggish. 

“Spacious,” he and Sam shot back in unison.

There was a moment of silence before the table burst into laughter seasoned with mortification.

“Good lord, they’re merging into one being,” Pidge bemoaned while Hunk laughed.

“It’s an honor to be compared to Commander Holt,” Shiro defended with his own laugh.

“Oh shove off,” Sam grumbled but not even the tea cup could hide the grin he wore.

They had fallen into a moment of silence, calm and peaceful in each other's presence, when a new voice spoke up from the railing of the balcony.

“Hello there!”

“What the fuck!” Pidge squawked and jumped out of her seat as Coran pulled himself onto the balcony wearing such a delighted smile that the startled group could do little more than stare. He was decked out in a simple suit, foregoing the royal robes he had taken to wearing, much like the one he had been wearing the day they had met him. He brushed off some spare dust before he settled into a seat with a pleasant sigh. He was not bothered by the stunned silence and instead took the time to pull in a deep breath of Earth air and stretch out his legs.

“Coran, I know Altean’s know what doors are, why in the name of all that is living and dead, are you climbing our balcony?” Colleen asked as she took another sip of her tea in hopes of steadying her racing heart. The ticking brow rivaled her hastily crafted image of tranquility.

“Well, you all were up here having such a good time, and I was down there,” he gestured over his shoulder, “And there just happened to be a perfectly placed tree that would allow me to pop right in and join you. I’ve entered households in much worse ways, I assure you. Though I may have overdone it with my back.”

They watched as he grimaced and rubbed at his spine for a moment.

“You weren’t supposed to arrive for another few hours,” Pidge pointed out darkly, still a bit miffed for having been startled, and she lifted her tea to her face to hide the frown she wore.

“Yes, well, I left a bit earlier than expected,” Coran surmised while shooting Shiro a furtive glance.

“I’m sure we’ll hear from someone about the unscheduled arrival,” Shiro sighed but offered a tired smile to the man before leaning his elbows on the table with hands clasped. He could already hear the complaints filing in through his communicator to demand answers. 

The front door to the apartment opened and shut a moment later.

“Based off of how this day is going,” Sam began with a chuckle, “I’m assuming that’s Keith.”

“Sorry I’m late,” the familiar voice spoke up as he moved through the living room after kicking his boots off at the door next to Shiro’s. Keith stepped out onto the balcony while running a hand through his hair. Hunk offered him a cup of tea without missing a beat and Keith claimed the last available seat with a his own relieved sigh. He had never been a serious tea drinker but living with Shiro had instilled an appreciation for the beverage within him. He breathed in the familiar steam and stilled the raging restlessness in his muscles for a moment to take a sip.

“You’re early, actually,” Lance shot back with a quirked brow.

“I’ll leave,” Keith stated simply and mocked climbing to his feet before Sam barked out a laugh and reached for his shoulder to pull him back into his seat.

“Alright, everyone, settle down,” Shiro called over the multiple conversations and laughter.

The table quieted as everyone leaned back in the chairs and sipped from their tea, once more reveling in each other’s presence, but there was an obvious underlying tension and it was one that Shiro sorely wanted to address now that he had had a moment to collect his thoughts. He set his clasped hands back down on the table as they all lifted their eyes to him imploringly, even Colleen, who had begun to understand there was more to this meet up than she originally presumed, level her gaze on him questioningly.

“We’ve all got the ‘I’ve gathered you all here today’ look going on,” Lance observed nervously, finger tapping on the table along with the same rhythm his leg beat out against the floor.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we all have an idea of what’s going on,” Pidge observed stoically, steam fogging her glasses from her tea.

Keith glanced about the table with furrowed brows before turning back to Shiro with dawning understanding. There was obviously something going on that he had not been made privy to.

Shiro sighed and lifted a hand to his mouth in thought, unsure of how to begin, because this was more than just bringing up an issue to fellow colleagues to look into. If he was right, then his friends, his family, were about to be pulled into another situation that would possibly shatter the lives they had worked so hard to build for themselves. He wondered, for a moment, if he shouldn’t have even come to them. Maybe, he should have worked to resolve the issue himself and allowed them to continue their work. He was already used to a life of fighting, he had always been fighting, and it wasn’t all that hard to continue doing so. But Hunk had opened a famous restaurant and chain, Pidge had shaped Earth into a universal hub, Lance had found peace on a farm with his family while traveling and spreading Allura’s message, and Keith had built the Blade of Marmora into a universal humanitarian relief program. But Shiro was still working to protect the universe and some part of him felt that everything should stay as is. Let them know peace and happiness.

“We’ve all had the dreams, Shiro,” Lance’s voice cut through his train of thought and Shiro lifted startled eyes to him, then the rest of the table. Of course they had, he thought dryly, if even  _he_ had experienced the messages then the others had as well. Out of all the paladins, Shiro was the furthest removed from the group. He had stepped down after being pulled from the Black Lion and their connection had dwindled down to the barest of trickles until it fell silent with the lions' departure. 

Keith’s brows shot up and he sat back in his seat with understanding.

“This is a Voltron issue,” Pidge stated grimly, “Not a Shiro issue.”

Shiro dropped his hand and wove his fingers together on the table once more, resigned. 

“What dreams have you all been having?” Coran questioned quietly, nervous but saddened. He analyzed each of their faces as they dropped their eyes to the table and then among each other. Like children caught in the midst of a scheme to steal the whole cookie jar, they gauged each other's reactions before daring to open their mouths. 

“Allura needs help,” Lance stated abruptly, hand fisting on the table while head whipped around in his direction. 

“Allura?” Coran exclaimed and straightened in the chair, tea forgotten, and he leveled Shiro with an accusatory glare. “Why didn’t you say so?” he asked in frustrated confusion.

“I didn’t know if it was a serious issue at the time, Coran, I apologize,” Shiro murmured quietly and met Coran’s intense expression with imploring eyes. “I contacted you as soon as I regained consciousness to speak with you on the matter but I didn’t want to cause alarm for everyone else,” he explained.

“Consciousness?” Hunk questioned in concern, brows knit.

“Shiro was tackled off the bridge of an old Galra cruiser while we were apprehending a few pirates,” Sam explained with lifted hands to ease their rising concern, “He suffered a minor concussion and woke a few hours later.”

“Space pirates!” Hunk gasped.

“That’s not important right now,” Shiro stated in an attempt to drag the conversation back to the main topic. Their group had always had a tendency to derail with distractions and it was best to steer them back on track before they delved to far. Besides, he's had far worse and they all knew it. 

“I’m sure Matt has footage of it anyways,” Pidge drawled but shook her head and leaned forward, “Anyways, so what about Allura? All I got from my dream is that she needed help but we have no further information and it’s not exactly as if we can just hop in a lion and check the astral plain . . .”

The table fell silent with pensive thought. The statement left them all feeling rather useless. It was true, they had no way to find Allura or take up arms on her behalf. They had only the Atlas, an amazing asset by far, but lacking in the same capabilities as Voltron. It would be like striking out across the Sahara Desert on foot in search of a small rock. 

“Well,” Coran spoke up thoughtfully with a finger to his chin, “Just because you don’t have the lions doesn’t mean you no longer have your bond and since we discovered that a lions bond exceeds any distance . . .”

They all lifted their faces to Coran as he spoke, a heavy silence settling after he had trailed off, and Colleen lifted a brow while she watched the cogs in their brains turn.

"But . . ." Hunk spoke up but trailed off, brows knit together in confusion, "They left. Didn't they go home? Or where ever giant fighting robot lions go when they're done for the day?"

Coran pulled at his mustache with eyes lifted to the blue skies overhead. He looked deep in thought but there was an excited air that hung about him as he carefully selected his next words. "It's not as if they ceased to be, Number Two, they were not unmade when their duty was done," he explained as he leaned forward over the table and spoke gently but with a great deal of hope. "They;re out there somewhere, gliding through the stars, waiting for the next time they are called upon. You mark my words."

Hushed silence befell them once more as a tentative hope, too small and fearful of denial to fully blossom, struggled to push forth among them. Lance leaned back in his chair and ran his hands through his hair anxiously, eyes lifted above as if pleading for help. Pidge fell silent in thought, chin clasped between her fingers, while Hunk glanced about the table hesitantly. 

Keith looked to Shiro while he rested his hands on the table and frowned - a sign that he was leaving the decision up to his elder. 

“Guess it’s time for some old school team bonding then,” Shiro said with a quirk of his lips. “Keith . . .” he murmured to the side as his brows crinkled in question.

Keith nodded once, curtly, before he pushed up from his chair and said, “Original formation then, Lance.”

Lance jumped to his feet with a nod of his own, “Blue was always my color anyways.”

"Wait," Hunk jumped up, "Are we doing this? Is this really happening? I mean, I'm all for it, but are we sure this is going to work?"

"Don't worry, Hunk," Keith reassured the man with a pat on his shoulder as they pushed their chairs in. 

Colleen watched as the group mobilized with wide eyes. It seemed like just yesterday that the children were spat out of the Garrison jeeps after finally setting foot back down on Earth. It was a war torn and scarred planet, not the same as they had left it, but it was home. They had fought to make it safe and then returned home again, this time, one friend short. Months had passed as they mourned and struggled to assimilate with the new world born from their triumphs. They had holed up in the Holt's vacation home and spent the days rebuilding themselves. Shiro, as Captain of the Atlas, had not had the opportunity to take some time for himself upon his return but he had made sure to stop by a handful of times a month to check on all of them.

And now they were about to pick up arms once more and leap back into space without an ounce of hesitation. 

Colleen set her cup of tea down on the table with vacant eyes and a heavy sigh. Sam gripped her shoulder and offered her a tight smile.

“Let’s do this on the Atlas, I have a feeling that it’ll be of more help given its power source and capabilities,” Sam instructed as the remainder of those present climbed to their feet to follow.

“I wish the Atlas could turn into a giant lion,” Pidge murmured as they huddled together on the bridge of the Atlas. They had all settled in Shiro’s station, it being just big enough, and sat knee to knee with their legs crossed.

“That would be so cool,” Hunk mumbled in response. He tried to ignore the distant rumbling of his stomach while the cold floor of the bridge bit into his backside.

They were supposed to be quiet while concentrating on their bonds but, due to the years worth of distance, they were a little rusty. Shiro couldn’t blame them really. It was better they get all the joking out of their system now as opposed to later. And, honestly, a giant Atlas Lion would have been bad ass. He bit his tongue, refraining from adding his own comment into the mix, but he could feel a smirk pulling at his cheeks.

“Alright, you lot, remember to concentrate,” Coran’s voice floated over them from where he stood by the entrance to the bridge. It was a light and friendly reprimand but Pidge and Hunk winced, Keith sighed in disappointment, and Lance grew ever more annoyed. The Blue Paladin was anxious.

Shiro rolled his shoulders and straightened his posture and pulled back in his mind to observe his surrounding via his other senses. With practiced ease, ease garnered from continued work with the Atlas, he was able to feel the varying quintessence around him. Sam was a faded green, a bit on the yellow side, but the color did not surprise Shiro. Sam was just as kind and carrying as he was intelligent and daring. Colleen, however, was a surprise. She exuded fiery determination and a commanding presence, much like a mother lion, and her quintessence was a subtle magenta. Honestly, Shiro thought a moment later, he should have figured. Colleen had stood up to Sanda without hesitation. Sam had told everyone the story at some point or another and had then proceeded to tell them all again.

Shiro let out a small sigh through his nose, reminding himself to remain focused, and turned his mind over towards Coran. He was the closest to their little group and he radiated such a soft and light blue quintessence that Shiro was immediately reminded of the castle of lions. It had just a subtle hint of green to it that one may have overlooked it if they weren’t aware of how courageous and crafty the man was. Be that as it may, as Shiro allowed his senses to observe the familiar quientessence, he caught the slightest brush of another. It was hard to make out over the blinding and resolute colors that spilled out from the four other Paladins around him, but it was there, just hidden like the feint stars above the light pollution.

It’s not enough, he thought grimly as the quintessence flickered and faded. It was an afterimage if anything, just the remnants of Allura’s presence left over from the years Coran spent at her side.

_Shouldn’t you be working on something else?_

Shiro grimaced as Atlas mentally nudged him in another direction. Yes, the others were working on entering the Astral plane. They might have already reached it and were standing around waiting on him to get his shit together. The Atlas was right but there would always be an underlying fear of returning to that beautiful star studded darkness only to be trapped once more. It was suffocating.

His time in the Black Lion hadn’t been harmful in anyway but the silence that had stretched on for several months had allowed his mind to succumb, multiple times, to the dark thoughts he had shoved to the back of his thoughts to be dealt with never. They had crept up on him like starving wolves in the night, gnashing their teeth and salivating, and he had had no weapon to combat them with. They had ravaged his mind until he had feared there was nothing left of it. Sightless eyes had stared up at the stars for immeasurable lengths of time while the Black Lion had attempted to sooth him with mental nudges and purring but even that did little to pull him from the tar pit that had become his mind.

I can’t work on connecting with the Black Lion if you’re my head, Shiro thought back a moment later. It was true. The Atlas had a commanding presence, not so regal as the Black Lion, but just as consuming. Where the Black Lion had been calm and composed, majestic as any of the other lions, the Atlas was playful and determined. Honestly, he would have to say that the Atlas was more like Lance. Sometimes Shiro would have to reign her in and sooth her energetic mind with calming words, or lectures. Other times she would encourage her captain. When he faltered or worked himself to the ground she would be there in his mind with a sly or playful nudge, she would open the doors to send him to his quarters, or brighten the lights to signal her determination.

The Atlas sent him a memory of Pidge rolling her eyes.

Shiro bit his lip and held back the verbal retort that threatened.

Next came an image of Matt stopped at a door and bowing to usher Shiro through.

The Atlas enjoyed using the Holt family for communication. If only because Shiro was so attached to them and she had the most experience with them. The other Paladins were never really on the Atlas for any length of time. It was a pity as Shiro knew she would love them.

The mental weight of the ship receded from his mind and he let out an involuntary sigh. With the distracting line of communication silenced he cast his mind out, imagining himself reaching out through Earth’s atmosphere, and traveled through their galaxy faster than any lion could manage. He knew that the universe was a vast expanse of velvety black seas, spanning further and larger than any normal human brain could mentally understand, but he was determined to search out the familiar being who had once housed his very self. In a way, he had long since felt that the Black Lion was a maternal figure in his life. This was partly due to the fact that, should a lion communicate via words to its paladin, they often took on the voices of those prominent in their life. The Black Lion had spoken to him in his mother’s.

So he thought of his mother then, the woman who had long been taken by the stars, and sought out the direction that would lead him towards her.

And as he spun about among the stars with desperation, just there, he caught the faintest of familiar scents brush across his mind. Peaches and an ocean breeze. The two smells that he had known his mother by as he was growing up.

He lifted a hand, watching as the stars glittered between his fingers, and clenched them into his fist.

Everything blurred around him as he felt a physical resistance in his fist and pulled back. He rocketed ahead, launched forward by the physical pull, and didn’t even bother to resist the smirk as stars shot past him.

He leaped through space with arms thrown back and knees lifted and chuckled when he felt the distant flickering of the other paladins behind him, riding in his wake. And before him came the sound of a distant roar that alighted such a thrilling fire within his chest that he wondered why he had ever thought life was good without the Black Lion in it. 

And suddenly, there she was. The Black Lion sat on her haunches among the dark waters of the astral plane and as he rocketed towards her with arms now lifted above his head, preparing for the impact, she opened her mouth to catch him in her jaws. He phased right through her metal and circuitry and was spat out onto a new plane.

Water splashed around his ankles as he landed in a crouch. It rippled and distorted the sky it reflected, sending waves of blues, greens, yellows, reds, and purples out beyond the horizons. The sky was orange, as if a sun was in the process of setting and fighting to keep its hold on the sky. Shiro took this all in as he pulled himself up and spun about in place with awe sparkling in his eyes. It was so much like Black’s astral plane but not. But as his eyes scanned the flickering stars above, he caught sight of four trailing comets of familiar colors barreling straight for him. He barely had time to move out of the way before four geysers shot up into the air and the water fell back down in a gentle rain to reveal the remaining paladins.

“Glad you all made it,” he drawled as Keith shook his head, sending droplets of water scattering about.

“Yeah, well, someone was taking their time and we decided to give him a moment to get used to being the head of Voltron again,” Pidge grumbled as she ran a hand through her wet locks and slicked them back against her skull.

Shiro grimaced but turned away to scan the horizon in the direction of the metaphysical setting sun. Pidge was right, as always, but knowing that the others had all been aware was a little embarrassing. Still though, he thought as he ran his prosthetic over his other shoulder and sent water scattering, there was something simple and satisfying about being slotted back in as the head. The Atlas was great, but at the end of the day, it was nothing like flying the Black Lion.

“Right,” he finally spoke up, “Let’s find Allura and resolve this issue before it becomes the next ten thousand year war that ruins all the known universe and is only brought to an end when the next five paladins are finally chosen.”

“There it is,” Lance muttered as they shuffled forward through the water towards the light. 

“He’s got a point though,” Hunk mumbled in response with a nervous chuckle.

Keith grunted as he came up on Shiro’s right, water rippling beneath his feet as he walked. It felt nice not to be the one calling the shots for a change and he was all too willing to follow Shiro once more. He had grown over the years and taken the reigns with the Blade but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t stressful at time. Especially with a lack of enemies to punch in the face. Focus had tempered his rage, patience guiding him, but there was something very satisfying about battle that he dearly missed.

Shiro glanced over at Keith, as if sensing his thoughts, and nudged him with an elbow.

The brooding expression smoothed from Keith’s face and he let out the growing frustration with a light sigh. Patience, right.

“I wonder what Allura’s been doing,” Hunk mused aloud.

“Fighting. Isn’t that why we’re going to help?” Keith called back over his shoulder.

“I mean, yeah, but like, what is she fighting? Isn’t she basically some celestial being that controls the universe now?” Hunk shot back questioningly, brows knit.

“Yes?” Keith answered, though he didn’t sound too confident in his answer.  

Pidge scoffed and lifted a hand to her face, as if she were about to adjust her glassed, and remembered belatedly that she had retired them years ago.

“What?” Keith bit out, turning his head to level Pidge with a glare, “It’s not as if you know what’s going on.”

“I know I don’t,” Pidge stated dryly, “That’s exactly why I’m not agreeing to or denying Hunk’s statement.”

“Can we stop?” Lance exclaimed, clenching his hands into fists as he plowed ahead of them all. “No one knows what’s going on. We only know that Allura needs our help and that should be all that matters.”

“The rest of the _universe_ matters too,” Keith snapped.

“Guys!” Shiro barked out, coming to a stop and turning back to look at them all. The group came to a halt, varying degrees of frustration and confusion written across their faces, and lifted their eyes to his in surprise. “Why are we fighting?” he asked after a moment of silence, shoulders thrown back and face stern, while the others shuffled their feet awkwardly.

“Because we’re worried,” Hunk answered demurely.

Shiro nodded once, curtly, “Yes, Hunk, we’re worried. Something could be very wrong. Something that might require Voltron. Something that might be endangering all of the universe again. Allura has reached out to us all for help and, as far as we know, she is the only one that could provide us answers. There’s no point in arguing over the logistics and possibilities of what we are doing until we have contacted her so let’s bite back the irritation and frustration and work towards our goal.”

Silence fell and eyes swiveled to meet each other.

“It’s like we’re forming Voltron for the first time all over again,” Pidge murmured curiously, brows knit.

Shiro heaved a sigh, allowing his shoulders to fall, and a small smile pulled at his face as he eyed them all. They were all so grown now . . . “It is,” he admitted, “Luckily, we have practice at getting to know each other and learning on the run.”

Lance gave a half smile as Pidge chortled and they continued walking once more.

“Is that an island?” Hunk spoke up later. They had been walking for what felt  like several minutes but given that time did not actually pass on the astral plane, it was hard to say just how many it was. But at some point, he had begun to make out a small smudge on the horizon as they walked, but now it was growing into what could be considered a mountain.

“It looks like it,” Keith drawled as they approached.

The water beneath their feet grew restless as the island grew in size. Ripples turned to waves, though their tread remained steady, that soon crashed up onto the shores of a rocky beach spanning miles. It was still far too off in the distance to make any specific details out but it was obvious that the sandy terrain gave way to a towering forest of blues and purples and above that, a smoking mountain stood tall.

“I don’t remember there being any islands in the void,” Pidge grumbled. It was disorienting to be thrown for such a loop, especially for a person like herself, who relied on facts and logic. The astral plane had no need for such formations, therefore, there shouldn’t be any. It wasn’t a physical realm affected by time, erosion, weather, or tectonic plate movements. She hated the astral plane.

“Let’s keep moving. I’m sure we’ll find out what’s going on,” Shiro advised but he did pick up the pace as they drew nearer.

“I think this is Voltron island,” Lance spoke up as they set foot on the sand and leaned back to eye the tops of the mammoth trees before them. The sun had long since sunk below the horizon but they were close enough now to tell that the forest was green and only appeared blue due to the darkness and shadows that clung to it. From within its depths, neon specks flitted about, and the gentle chattering of nocturnal creatures could be heard.

“What makes you say that?” Shiro questioned curiously, head cocked as they stood. His boots sunk in the sand and he allowed the gentle breeze offered by the astral plane to dry the sweat on his brow. 

“The ocean,” Lance thumbed over his shoulder, “The Earth, the forest, the fire, and the expanse of starry night sky overhead.”

Pidge snorted, “I should have noticed.”

“Good point,” Shiro conceded with a chuckle, “Let’s get going then.”

Lance trudged ahead, deciding to lead the way, but Shiro gave him a look as he passed. The markings on his face had begun to glow as soon as he had moved forward. He refrained from commenting but made a mental note to keep an eye on the younger man as they continued their journey.

The looming trees swallowed them up moments later.

Pidge eyed the vegetation as they progressed and let a small sigh escape. Her heart twisted in melancholy as the trees grew more familiar to her the deeper they traveled. These were the life giving trees of the Olkari. Their trunks home to a people and hundreds of their fellow local creatures as well as their own creations. Olkarion had been one of the few planets not recreated by Allura’s sacrifice. Pidge was not positive as to why but she had a feeling it had to do with the fact that the planet had already been devoured by a weblum before it could be restored. The Olkari people were scattered among the stars and Rhyner had long since passed on. Despite that, Pidge would never forget all that the woman had taught her.

She glanced over, feeling eyes upon her, and quirked a brow as she caught Hunk watching her. He smiled softly and reached over to clasp her on the shoulder. He must have noticed too, she realized belatedly, and offered him a watery smile in response. His support and understanding was never more appreciated.

“Of course Keith would make us climb a mountain for his element,” Lance grumbled. The trees had begun to part and the group was already making their way up the incline of the mountain when Lance had finally spoken.

Keith grunted but added, “Where else would you find fire naturally other than a volcano?”

“Actually, Volcanoes don’t have fire, just magma, which can cause fire,” Pidge corrected with a knowing smirk.

“Well, maybe I’m the Guardian Spirit of magma then,” Keith muttered.

Shiro laughed but they continued the hike up the side of the mountain even in the dark. Their path was lit by pools of lava, glowing and dangerous in the shadows, but all the more comforting knowing they were a representation of the right arm of Voltron. Shiro was just thankful that someone had thought to cut a path up the mountainside for them and there was little actual climbing involved.

“Is it really wrong of me to hope that this leads to another universe wide adventure?” Keith murmured to Shiro as they trudged on. He had shoved his hands into the pockets of his Blade uniform as they walked and the action advertised the uncertainty in his statement.

Shiro glanced over at him in surprise, eyes wide for a moment, before he smiled softly. He looked down at the rocks before his feet as he moved carefully before he lifted his gaze to Keith once more, “I know what you mean.”

Keith paused, watching Shiro with a thoughtful expression, before he smirked.

“There’s a sense of purpose when one has a task set before them,” Shiro explained quietly while the others were a few yards behind them. “And when it is an overwhelmingly difficult task, those with you become family, and it’s just you against the world. But you meet people, see things, learn things, and despite it all, your life feels more colorful and true than ever before. Why do you think I wanted to reach the stars to begin with, Keith?”

Keith chuckled.

“Has anyone else noticed that Lance’s face is glowing, or is it just me?”

They both turned back towards Hunk, who was watching Lance nervously, while Lance paused and lifted a hand to his cheek in surprise.

“I’m sure it means we’re on the right track,” Shiro called back.

Lance held his hand before his nose, watching as the blue light reflected off his bare palm, and smiled. His eyes stung at the thought of Allura, so close that the marks she bestowed upon him glowed. His heart fluttered in excitement and he climbed to the front of the group once more. Shiro fell in behind him without a second thought and Keith followed in his footsteps.

They reached the top of the volcano and as they crested the lip were surprised to find that the crater at its center was not filled with bubbling lava but a familiar pink glow. The light emanated from a small spot at the bottom of its depth and Lance wasted no time as he pushed past the others and leaped over the ledge, his sneakers scrabbling against the ash and gravel as he slid down, and jumped into a run once his decent slowed.

Shiro followed down after him and the other paladins were quick to move in his wake.

“Allura!” Lance called as he drew near and was able to make a figure out among the light that she exuded.

The figure moved and the light dimmed as she turned glowing glittering eyes onto the approaching group. She sat on her knees, hands resting in her lap, and a white dress trailed from her shoulders into the dirt around her. Its skirts splayed out around her, like a seashell among the dirt, and sparkled in the dying light. Among the rock and ash of the volcano she appeared as a goddess, untouched and pure, and far more ethereal than ever before.  

Lance slid to a stop, disbelief and joy warring upon his face, and he feared that if he moved forward to wrap her in his arms like he so wanted to do she would disappear. She would burst into fragments of light like her father’s AI had all those years ago when she crushed it within her grasp to save them all and they would once again be left with nothing but her memory. 

“Lance.”

Her voice was a tearful whisper and echoed among the rising walls around them airily. A smile broke across her face and she glowed brighter than the sun.

Hunk was crying.

“Allura, what’s going on?” Lance asked and dropped to his knees before her. It seemed she feared to touch him as well, because she did not move as he came close and her hands fisted in her lap. The nervous and hesitant woman, obviously tired beyond measure despite the light she exuded, set Lance on edge. Rarely had he seen Allura doubt herself, in fact, he could count on one hand the number of times she had faltered over the years as they fought against the Galra. It was obvious that whatever she was dealing with had pushed her to a breaking point.

Allura bit her lip and lowered her eyes to her lap in thought. She let out a long sigh through her nose while the Paladins waited with bated breath. Keith had crossed his arms while Shiro watched with a grim expression. Eventually, Allura spoke, and it was with a small and defeated voice they were not used to hearing from her. “I had hoped that, with my actions, the universe would finally be safe . . .” she murmured quietly.

Overhead, the night sky of the combined astral planes glittered ominously and a gentle breeze curled over the lip of the crater and slithered in to caress the back of their necks.

“It took me feebs to realize that not all of the planets I had worked to recreate were thriving,” she admitted with another sigh. She had lifted one of the many layers of her skirts and pulled at it anxiously as the others listened.

“Olkarian,” Pidge whispered with dawning realization. Her hands were clenched into fists at her side as she took half a step closer, eyes blown wide and heart aching.

“Yes, Pidge,” Allura agreed softly and lifted her gaze to take the young woman in with a watery smile, “You’ve grown into a beautiful and strong woman, Pidge, and as always, you are correct.”

Pidge blushed, not used to the praise, but refrained from commenting as Allura continued.

“Olkarian was restored just as all the other planets were but . . .” she trailed off as she gritted her teeth and her shoulders grew taut with frustration, “That thing . . . ate it.”

“The weblum?” Hunk questioned curiously. He was a pacifist by nature and though the weblum devoured planets, he saw it as just another aspect of life, and so the level of malice in Allura’s voice left him stunned.

“No,” she shook her head and dropped her hands into her lap, “It’s always been there, just waiting, bidding it’s time.”

“What is?” Lance questioned urgently. His patience was growing thin with the whole situation and he desperately wanted to pull Allura back into reality with them as soon as she was able to provide them with answers. But, he had a sinking suspicion that it was not to be, as the sadness that seeped from her was palpable.

Allura paused, fingers trembling as she lifted her hands and reached for Lance’s own. He hurried to comply, allowing her to wrap both around his right, and bit his lip when he felt her soft warmth. Her hands were not fully solid but he felt enough pressure to know that she was there, at least somewhat. Their eyes met, desperation warring within their chests, before Allura closed her eyes and turned towards the rest of the paladins.

“A monster,” she whispered, “It devours everything and I’ve been struggling to subdue it all this time but I’m reaching my limit.”

Lance pulled her closer to him and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. His brows crashed together in concern while the other paladins shifted. Allura rested her head against his shoulder and wiped at her eyes.

Shiro glanced about the others, noting the looks of shock and confusion among his fellow paladins, before he stepped forward and crouched down on one knee before the two. Belatedly, he realized that a change had come over them all while they conversed with their long lost princess. As he reached out with a black gloved hand and grasped Allura’s shoulder he could only smile upon noticing the old armor that now encased his body. “Don’t worry, Princess, we’ve got your back,” he murmured and met her eyes with a confident smile.

Allura smiled, lips trembling, and laid a hand over Shiro’s. “I know you do,” she whispered, "You always have, without fail."

Pidge shifted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms, eyes misty but refusing to acknowledge it, she asked, “With that in mind, how exactly are we meant to help?”

Hunk shot her a glance, then did a double take, noticing the green armor she now wore and then looked down at himself with a noise of surprise. Now that he thought about, they were all wearing the familiar armor that they had practically lived in all those years ago. There were subtle differences, it seemed their helmets were not a part of the package, but as he examined Pidge he could see that the color of her suit rose up around her jaw and he suspected that they now had masks similar to the Blades. He scratched at his own jaw curiously and startled when glass slid up over his face.

Allura wiped at her eyes with a wet chuckle, “I’ve sent the lions to you, of course.”

“You what?” Hunk mumbled while Pidge smirked and once more reached for a pair of glasses at her nose.

Keith glanced to Shiro before he allowed a feral grin to take over his face and he crossed his arms with shoulders straight. The thought of flying the Red Lion again blossomed within his ribs and took root, spreading warmth as it traveled, and he shot Lance a look with raised brows. He knew Lance had always missed blue. And sure enough, Lance returned his look with a tight quirk of his lips.

“Then that settles it,” Shiro stated, cutting through each of their moments of self reflection and hope, “Team Voltron will step up to deal with this new enemy.” He pushed himself to his feet and settled his hands on his hips to look over the group with grim determination. 

“This monster is far more powerful than Zarkon or even Haggar ever was,” Allura warned with a trembling voice that was slowly growing steadier the longer she spoke with them. “It devours worlds and mutates anything that comes in contact with it and, if my suspicions are correct, it has the ability to travel through different realities as well. Every time I find it, it is moving through the quintessence fields.”

Shiro frowned but his stance did not falter as he responded, “We’ll need all the help we can get then. And we’ll need more information.” He lifted a brow towards Allura imploringly.

Allura grimaced, “I’m afraid I don’t have much more than that. I’ve only been able to gather information through observation.”

Shiro sighed but nodded, “Understood.”

“I cannot remain here any longer,” Allura stated as she pushed herself to her feet and dusted her dress off. The light shimmering around her figure intensified as she brushed her hair over her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I’m off to try and subdue the beast once more. I recommend searching out rumors of monsters or crazed individuals, study them, and figure out where this thing came from before tackling it head on.”

“Will do, Princess,” Shiro shot back with as reassuring a smile as he could muster. He turned away, stepping out of the way as well as corralling the other three paladins along with him to give the princess and her blue paladin a moment alone. Pidge grumbled and Hunk rambled nervously, Keith scowled halfheartedly but let out a sigh, all while Shiro smiled sadly and nudged them on.

Lance turned to Allura with watering eyes, searching her face as she met his gaze, and lifted a hand to her cheek. “I love you,” he murmured quietly, not trusting his voice to carry as it usually would.

“I love you too,” she whispered and leaned forward to press her lips to his. The kiss was questionable, given that Allura herself was barely physically present, but the warmth spread down into Lance’s heart and that was all that mattered. He brushed a lock of hair out of her face and stepped back as she did the same. “Until next time, Lance,” she said quietly as her glow brightened and consumed her.

“Until next time,” he whispered in return, absently, for when the light died down and the crater was once more dark as it had been before Allura arrived – she was gone. His heart wept and he wanted more than anything cry at the unfairness of it all, but his team was watching him, and they all had a job to do. He could rage against the unjustness of it all later when the universe was less in peril. With an aching chest he turned back to face the other paladins and strode towards them. “Let’s get this show on the road then,” he muttered.

Keith reached out to grip Lance’s shoulder and the Blue Paladin paused to offer him a tight smile. Keith let go, having done all that he could think to do, and followed Shiro as he climbed back up towards the lip of the crater.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man,” Hunk mumbled nervously while Pidge lifted her wrist to her face, having only recently realized she was wearing the armor, and pulled up the data display to notate Allura’s words for later review.

“Calm down, Hunk, it’s not like we’ve never done this before,” she drawled dryly and then huffed as she stubbed her tow on a rock.

“Oh no, Pidge, you don’t understand,” Hunk shot back, “Who’s going to run my restaurant while I’m away saving the universe?”

Pidge dropped her wrist and turned to look at the Yellow Paladin with disbelief, “You don’t trust Sal? After all you’ve taught him? What about Shay?”

Hunk twisted his hands together before he heaved a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, “No, you’re right. I need to trust them.”

“I’m always right,” she chirped with a grin.

Shiro stopped at the edge of the volcano and heaved a sigh as the others stepped up behind him. “We’ll discuss everything once we’re back on the Atlas,” he instructed over his shoulder. The others grunted in agreement, all distracted with their own thoughts and responsibilities. Shiro reached for the stars once more, pulling back, and shot into the sky to be launched all the way through space and time back into his body on Earth. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is just the first chapter of many to come. I feel we missed out on a lot of character interaction and development in season 8 so I want to explore everyone's dynamics perspectives a bit while the story is told. 
> 
> I appreciate you reading and apologize for the rant above.


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